Kiyamvir Ma'ar II
by VJ Riddle
Summary: Ma'ar, as Emperor, had duties to fulfill, one of them being the raising of an Heir. So came Kiyamvir Ma'ar II and his guard and lifebonded, Tralj: Traitors to the Emperor, Servants of the Goddess, and Immortal Guardians of the world. HIATUS, UNDERGOING EDITS.
1. Chapter 1

Tralj, a guard captain in Emperor Ma'ar's personal battalion of elite soldiers, watched the young man he was guarding carefully. The Heir to his Emperor's legacy was right in front of him and he was the one assigned to guard him. That was nothing short of amazing, for a twenty-one year old, already a captain, to be guarding the eighteen year old Heir. But everyone in the battalion agreed, that Tralj was uniquely suited to the job. He was half Kaled'a'in himself, as was the Heir, though not many knew that, and he was young, and he was one of the best fighters the battalion had ever seen.

What no one knew, was that Tralj wasn't the amazingly loyal and dedicated guard to Ma'ar that he appeared to be. He was in fact an agent for Urtho, the main rival of Ma'ar. His Emperor was not his master, that title was reserved for the man who had saved his life when his family had been slaughtered, by the very man he was currently serving as a guard to his son. Urtho had seen Ma'ar's actions as danger signs, and had raised Tralj, then sent him to a family that was in Ma'ar's territory and asked him to be his agent in Ma'ar's guards. Neither of them had ever expected him to make it this far, as a personal guard to the second most important person in the Empire!

Kiyamvir, or Amvir, was working with his father's armsmaster, and he was uniquely skilled in the art. He had been trained from the cradle, true, but it was still impressive to watch his near fantastic speed and odd style. A sort of mix, of everything he had ever been taught, street fighting, Kaled'a'in, which had been taught to him when he was younger and even now he was continuing that aspect of it. There was some northern fighting styles, as well as some western ones, and some assassin moves thrown into the mix. If he had only been born in the position to be a guard, he'd be an amazing asset! But he would be a strong Emperor, and a hard one for anyone to kill, which was all to the good in the agent's opinion. Especially since he had set himself the rather lofty goal of subverting the boy to his side as a favor to his master. Urtho had a personal attachment to the boy, though he tried to hide it. The boy even resembled Urtho more than he did his father, which was no surprise since his mother had been Urtho's younger sister. Virtually no one knew that of course, there would be some bit of controversy over that. Tralj was still trying to figure out if Kiyamvir knew of his mother's identity, and the reason behind her death, but he didn't even know of he'd be able to get Kiyamvir on his side.

Wincing as his charge blocked a flurry of blows from the armsmaster, he went back to his musings as he carefully watched his surroundings. He may not be the truly loyal guard he appeared to be, but he took his job seriously.

The two of them, Tralj and Kiyamvir, were actually going to be leaving on a year-long trip, seeing how far south they could go, going anywhere really. Ma'ar had asked his son to leave, go venture outside of the Empire, to get a feel for the vastness of the realm he'd eventually rule, at least, that was the Emperor's excuse. Tralj had an idea that the real reason that the Emperor wanted his son to leave was to get him away so he could plot with impunity, for his son had shown signs of actually giving a damn about people and those his father hated.

In fact- after this, they'd have to get their horses, report to the Gate terminus, and leave. Maybe he'd have his chance to subvert the younger man more easily there.

Two weeks later, Tralj and Kiyamvir were getting on much better than they had, and a true friendship was starting to develop. However, there were moments when Tralj doubted his charges sanity, like one time when they'd been talking, and Kiyamvir's eyes deadened, and he watched him with flat eyes and an expressionless face, just taking in information, and they had been talking about his father's slaughter of the Kaled'a'in, and Tralj couldn't help but think uneasily that there was something inhuman about his friend, a cold quality that caused him to be capable of the atrocities his father called everyday work.

That conversation had taken place a few days ago, and the occurrence hadn't happened again, so Tralj calmed down slightly, and came off his close monitoring of his friend's mental state.

They really had no clue where they were or where they were going. All they knew was that they had been gone for a certain amount of time and Ma'ar would call them when he wanted them to Gate themselves back.

They were camped for the night, staring up at the stars through the trees they were under, when Kiyamvir asked hesitantly, "You're half Kaled'a'in, but the parents that registered you to the guard were full Kaled'a'in, how did that happen?"

Tralj stiffened suddenly, and Kiyamvir watched him silently, debating with himself whether he could tell his guard and friend what he had found out. "You work for Urtho," he said simply. "I haven't told anyone. I'd prefer to work for Urtho myself. I- lost all illusions I had of my father when my mother died." The last was spoken softly, nearly inaudible.

Tralj was rigid as he sat up and then he moved extremely fast as he grabbed his charge's arms and pinned him to the ground. When he was satisfied Amvir was sufficiently immobilized, he hissed, "How the hell did you find out I was working for Urtho? And how am I supposed to believe you that you haven't told Ma'ar already and he sent us away to prepare a warm welcome for me?"

Kiyamvir met Tralj's blue eyes with his silver/blue ones and said in his mind, _:I have told no one that you work for Urtho but for you. No one knows that you work for him. Any suspicions my father had about you were eliminated ages ago, or he wouldn't have assigned you to guard me.: _He thought he hid the slight fear he felt rather well.

Tralj gulped, knowing you couldn't lie mind to mind, and slumped over, relieved beyond belief. It was then that he realized he had collapsed on top of his charge. He rolled off him, muttering, "Sorry."

Amvir hesitantly put his arm around his friend's shoulders and rested his head on his shoulder, asking softly, "My mother- was she related to Urtho? My father- he mentioned it when he- interrogated her." He chose the last words carefully, not wanting to have to relive what he had seen without his father's knowing.

"Yes, Urtho was her older brother," the guard replied just as softly. He flashed a quick smile at his friend and said, "He was like a father to me, Urtho. He saved my life and I owe him a great debt. I set myself what I believed to be a lofty goal to make you switch sides and introduce you to your uncle. He'd like that. I think you would too. You two have a lot in common. Now I come to find out you've already switched in heart, but haven't been able to find a way to switch in deed."

Kiyamvir grinned up at him shyly. He was still slightly unsure of his new friendship with the guard. Every so often- he felt strange twangs deep in his soul- quickly suppressed, but not before he recognized them for what they were, and he wondered how he'd ever be able to remain sane as friends with Tralj. He'd manage though, he usually did.

"So, I have a location mentally, think you can Gate us there? You can meet you're uncle. Besides I'm scheduled to report," Tralj continued, looking at his friend and grinning. "He'll be surprised."

Amvir snorted and said, "No shit. All right, first thing tomorrow then. We'll build a Gate."

The next day, they Gated directly into Urtho's stables, and Kiyamvir swayed where he stood, near collapsing, he was pretty good at doing Gates, but he was still only eighteen and he'd never done one with that kind of distance.

Tralj stabled the horses, knowing where everything was, and he called greetings to some people who recognized him, they saw Kiyamvir's pale face and assumed he was a refugee seeking a home in Urtho's sanctuary. Little did they know.

Tralj and he got up to Urtho's study, knocking and receiving permission to enter, Tralj led his charge and friend in. Seeing his master and mentor in his fireside chair, they both instantly grinned at one another and brightened while Kiyamvir shrunk back. Urtho and Tralj engaged in cheerful greetings and catching up on news, hugging each other quickly.

Tralj remembered him and turned to put his arm around his shoulder, drawing Kiyamvir forward and saying, "Urtho, this is the real reason I showed up to give my report in person. Urtho, my charge, Amvir, Amvir, your uncle Urtho."

Kiyamvir watched the Mage of Silence carefully while the man realized what Tralj had said, "Amvir? Amvir. Is that short for- Kiyamvir?" the middle aged man asked hesitantly.

He nodded quickly, starting to shrink in on himself again. Urtho didn't really notice, but Tralj did and he linked minds with his charge, _:It's all right, he doesn't hate you, you're a relative, he'd never be a blood traitor.:_

_:Unlike my father,:_ he replied, too distracted by examination of his uncle to be bitter.

_:Yes, unlike him,:_ Tralj allowed.

"How long will you be staying?" Urtho asked them, they were all three sitting in his study, and he seemed to understand Kiyamvir's nervousness with meeting a previously unknown relative, because he was acting as best he could to put him at ease.

"I'd say as long as we can, that way I can get used to it here, and Tralj and you can catch up," Kiyamvir said hesitantly, he was still worried and whenever Urtho moved suddenly or quickly he couldn't help but flinch. Urtho and Tralj both noticed this, and couldn't help but think what kind of fear he must have in him for his instincts to be like that. His father was a very appealing man in public, and they couldn't help but wonder too what kind of man he could be in private for Kiyamvir to be this on edge with someone new.

"I'd tend to agree," Tralj said, "If you get used to this as much as possible then it'll be easier for you to report and all."

Kiyamvir nodded gratefully, happy that his friend didn't think him foolish for wanting to remain in a place where, quite honestly, he didn't have to fear for his life constantly.

Tralj and Kiyamvir had linked rooms, after all, Tralj was still his guard, and currently Tralj was in his charge's room, making sure he was all right.

"Are you certain about remaining? If you don't feel at ease here, I don't have to stay any longer than right now," he said worriedly, looking into his friend's eyes.

Kiyamvir grinned at him uneasily and said, "I've never been here before and I've been raised to hate this man, of course I'm uneasy, but I'll get over it, Urtho- seems nice."

"Once you get to know him better seems nice will be replaced with 'is awesome'," Tralj grinned at him, sitting next to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. "You know, your little habit of flinching whenever he made a sudden move had me worried."

"I don't know if you remember, but I did the same thing with you. After I saw my father kill my mother and my illusions were shattered, I knew that eventually he'd figure it out and he'd come after me. I conditioned myself to believe that every new person I ever met was a potential assassin sent by my father to kill me off."

"So _that's_ why you were always doing that!" he exclaimed, nodding, "You know Amvir, it makes sense."

"Yeah, I know, the fact that I've been conditioned to hate this man will actually make it easier, because the odds that my father assigned Urtho the task of killing me are astronomical."

"He wouldn't do it. He hates killing, even when people are attacking him. That trait is something neither you nor I share with him. If there's just cause I'd slaughter a family down to the last babe," his eyes were cold as he said it, staring off into space, and Kiyamvir knew his friend had an idea of what that kind of 'just cause' would be. He could too, now that he thought about it.


	2. Chapter 2

The myth they circulated was that Amvir was in fact a very powerful mage (true) that had gone through some severe attempts at indoctrination by Ma'ar (semi-true) that was always only a hair away from losing control (untrue, mostly).

Their only problem was that there were, of course, naysayers that had some sort of huge conspiracy theory going on that, amusingly enough, had a slight bend towards the truth. However, most of those naysayers were put back into their proper slot as 'rabble-rousers' in peoples' minds once there had been a concentrated attack on Amvir when Tralj had been talking to an old friend.

Amvir was talking to a mage he had just met that expressed cautious interest in what he knew. He was nervous that he would accidently set off some sort of attack by his questions. If anything, he was more unnerved than ever by Amvir's soft tone of voice, and equally cautious treatment of the new mage. Then the new introduction nearly panicked when Amvir said softly, "Questions don't set me off, it's more when I'm attacked."

The mage had commented lightly, "Well then, I hope that doesn't happen while you're here. I rather like the way the area looks."

Amvir grinned brilliantly, "True, a large blackened crater would detract from the scenery some."

The mage seemed unnerved, but he chuckled, then continued asking his questions, still cautious, but not in a way that made it painfully obvious.

Suddenly, a group of seven sprang towards them, screeching curses in Kaled'a'in. Instinct took over, and Kiyamvir blasted out with sheer power, and when he realized he was about to kill his new friend, he tried to stop the power without success, and then pulled it back in on himself. As power ran through him, overwhelming his mind, he collapsed in the middle of a blackened crater that was forty feet across and six feet deep at its deepest point, where he was.

His new friend was a few feet from the edge of the crater, on unblemished ground, and stirred, then sat up, blinking owlishly. Tralj swore and jumped down into the center of the crater, helping his charge and friend sit up. Amvir opened his eyes and said, "Please tell me I didn't kill anyone that didn't attack me."

He looked around, counting the scorched heaps of bone, and he said, "You didn't. You managed to blast that mage you were talking to out of the way, and only vaporized those that attacked. Well done! You're getting better! Remember last time this happened?"

"How could I forget? There used to be trees. Now it's a leveled plain, and nothing will grow there for at least twenty years," he muttered, standing with Tralj's help.

The next few days passed and Kiyamvir relaxed, but not enough to sleep in one constant spot. As he did at home, he alternated between the bed, the couch and the floor at random, choosing different spots on the floor each time. Tralj knew that he still did that, and rather appreciated it, because some people resented that this new 'refugee' was getting so much attention. The story that he was a powerful mage and his power had to be controlled and brought back to his command before he could be completely integrated was accepted by most, but not all of those that lived around or near Urtho, and the threat of attack was always there.

That was how things stood the night those preparations paid off.

Kiyamvir was on the couch that particular night, and Tralj was feeling uneasy in his rooms. The feeling had no specific origin, but he could definitely sense danger from somewhere. They hadn't communicated with Ma'ar this whole time, and they were likely not to, letting the man think they were following his orders and traveling anywhere they felt like within his kingdom or beyond it. He certainly wouldn't have expected them to go to his enemy's stronghold!

Tralj had fallen into an uneasy slumber, with his sword unsheathed under the covers beside him and a knife under his pillow. The door slid open quietly, and a dark figure stalked in, it was only a few hours after sunset. Tralj waited until the figure nearly had gotten to the door with Kiyamvir behind it when Tralj lunged forward with a cry, mentally shouting a warning to Amvir. His blades were blocked and both of them managed to disarm each other, so it was reduced to fist fighting.

Kiyamvir burst through the door just as Tralj's opponent had temporarily gained the upper hand, and he tackled the man, driving his knife deep into his gut. The man, panting with pain, glared at them furiously as Tralj kept him down and Kiyamvir summoned a mage light.

"Why did you attack us?" Tralj hissed, furious.

"You're trying to subvert our master, and he is to good-hearted to see you're evil plans."

"Lies, who told you those lies," Kiyamvir said, shaking his head ruefully. Seeing that the man was near death, Tralj sat back on his heels. "Were you hired?" he demanded.

"No, I was recruited by my own cause," he replied, eyes blazing with triumph as he swiped at Kiyamvir, managing to make contact with a poisoned needle. The young man winced, then paled as he felt the poison running through his system. Tralj doubled over as if he felt the pain himself, then straightened and grabbed the man's palm, stabbing the man's own chest with it and then stabbing him through the eye with his own knife.

Catching Kiyamvir as he fell, he cursed his laxity as a guard. This should _never_ have happened! He silently vowed to remain on his guard for the rest of the visit here. Cursing mentally, he brought Kiyamvir to his feet and half-carried, half-guided his charge back into his room, closing the door on the corpse. He was still muttering to himself darkly when he stretched his charge out on the couch, wincing as he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his lower leg. Looking down, he didn't see any wound, and there was no poison in him. Puzzled, he shook it off and watched his charge worriedly. "Amvir, do you need the healers?" he asked softly.

"No, I have this one down pat," he replied, smiling slightly, face taut with pain. "Father used to train me how to fight poisons, then give me poisons as a test. This is the first time it's been directly put in my bloodstream though. That slows me up a bit but-" Tralj caught Amvir as he convulsed suddenly, and he shook for a few moments, then held still, breathing slowly. At that moment, Tralj himself felt a searing pain in his chest, and he pulled back, gasping in pain, vision swimming.

Amvir grabbed his arm, and he said, "Sorry, the loyalty spell does that sometimes," he apologized. He was referring to the spell Tralj had gotten placed on him to bind him to protect Amvir at all cost. The effects had never really affected him before, but this was one where he was quite a bit surprised. He'd never heard of a loyalty spell acting like this before!

"It hurts this bad for you?" he panted, recovering, sitting next to his charge as they both sat up in order to talk to one another.

"Yeah, probably, but I've gotten used to it," the young man shrugged. Tralj shook his head and said amusedly, "Your childhood sucked."

"Yes it did," he murmured sadly, leaning back into the couch, watching the far wall, a distant look in his eyes.

"What do you think they do with corpses here?" Tralj asked after a few moments of silence.

Kiyamvir furrowed his brow and said, "Well, do any of their gardens need fertilizing?"

They both exchanged looks, then burst into laughter. Tralj said, chuckling, "No, I don't think they do. And I don't think Urtho would approve of that disposal system anyway. Can you lift blood stains?"

"Yeah, I had to learn that one," he snorted, relaxing slowly.

Tralj shook his head, "You really were taught interrogation techniques."

"Of course," the young prince replied, yawning, "Doesn't everyone? When you hate the person enough, it's rather interesting."

"Actually Amvir, normal people don't get tutored in interrogation by the time they're three," Tralj sighed, then looked at his charge and smiled slightly. He was asleep, exhausted by purging poison from his system.

Watching him curiously, he wondered at the difference between his appearance awake and asleep. Awake he was hard and weary, eyes holding evidence to horrible sights with a degree of wariness that was rather sad. Asleep, he lost all of that, and his expression was calm, with a slight smile, and he was no longer the suspicious young man he really was. Smiling gently, Tralj loosened the ties on his friend's nightshirt so he'd actually be able to breath, and examined the scars on his friend's musician-like hands. Many of them weren't caused by any weapon he recognized, and they puzzled him, but he also had to wonder if he really wanted to know.

Tralj sat awake for some time longer, staring at the wall, thinking about more potential threats and how he could avert them.

He woke in the darkest part of the night, wondering what had awakened him, when he felt the rigidity of his charge. Cursing, he looked down at his charge, whose eyes were open, but unseeing, filled with mindless rage and pain. They flicked back and forth, seeing something invisible to the guard. Linking minds with his charge, he was snatched into a series of memories, flashing before his eyes too rapidly for him to catch too many details, which was to the good, as he felt sick just seeing the partial images. Then he saw a woman, golden complexion and blue eyes betraying her Kaled'a'in heritage, and he recognized her as Amvir's mother. Then he saw a mutilated body with her face, along with a horrified thought that crept into his mind from Amvir's memory, -He'd do this to me…-

_:No he won't!:_ Tralj swore, interrupting the cycle and Amvir was allowed to break free of the nightmare he had put himself through every night without fail since he had seen his mother die. Collapsing against his friend, his shoulders shuddered, Tralj continuing firmly, _:It won't happen Amvir. I will not LET it happen. You are my friend and my charge and I lo- will not let that happen to you.:_

His charge's mind was still open to him and he felt his relief and a twang of something deep under his charge's mental barriers that he kept up even now. Carefully ignoring what he'd seen, he distracted himself when he saw the slight hint of madness that lurked in his friends mind. _:Amvir?:_ he asked cautiously, reaching out to examine one of the hints closer. Surprised at what it was linked too, he found Amvir carefully interposing his own mental presence between him and the madness, _:It only comes on when I'm furious, and don't touch it, that might trigger it,: _he replied softly, knowing what it was that his guard and friend was alarmed by.

_:I'll remain your friend Amvir, nothing can change that,:_ Tralj said firmly, and on that note, he extracted himself from his charges mind, carefully erecting his own shields. Amvir did the same, and opened his eyes, finding himself leaning against Tralj, "Sorry," he mumbled, struggling to sit upright, but finding Tralj's arm wrapped around his chest, holding him against him.

"Had to restrain you," the guard explained, carefully prying his arm away, it had apparently grown stiff in its position.

Amvir nodded, and when he could sit up, he turned to face Tralj and said quietly, "I am sorry, that you had to see that."

"Was that woman- was that your mother?" Tralj asked hesitantly, and Amvir nodded curtly, "Yes," he said, voice clipped. "And you saw what happened to her."

"I did, I- I'm sorry Amvir," Tralj said it sincerely, feeling intense empathy for the eight year old boy who'd seen that and had to hide it his entire life.

"Sometimes it doesn't bother me, other times it's all I can think about," Amvir whispered, more to himself than to Tralj, "That's what really made me think about what my father was doing. The people we tortured together, they were someone elses mother, father, brother, friend. If this was how they felt, then what right did I have to do that to someone? If I was going to kill someone's loved one, then at the least I could do it quickly rather than drawing it out until they beg for death, lying through the teeth, saying anything to stop the pain."

"You really do torture prisoners?" Tralj asked, even though he'd been told that before, he'd never truly believed it, nor had he taken in the full impact that training would have on someone's humanity.

"Yes," the prince laughed bitterly, "You must despise me now."

"Why would I?" Tralj asked softly.

Amvir turned to him, eyes flinty, with a sardonic smile on his face, "If my father ordered me too, I would torture you to insanity. I might have learned the arts on family members of yours, or friends, distant kin. I might have even tortured a few of them myself, as 'assignments' from my father."

"I find the first hard to believe," the guardsman whispered, "Given one of the things that can trigger your madness."

The prince froze, a panicked look crossing his face, "You saw that?" he whispered, terrified.

Tralj nodded slowly, and Amvir looked like he truly would panic at any moment, "Oh no," he whimpered, pulling away and burying his face in his hands, "Oh no."

He couldn't figure out why Amvir would be reacting like that, but, recalling that twitch he'd glimpsed from behind shields, it suddenly all made sense, and he almost laughed aloud. But he could see that his charge was panicking, and laughing wouldn't be a good response to that. Moving over quickly, he wrapped an arm around Amvir's shoulders and said gently, "What's wrong?"

His head shook quickly, and he didn't look up, Tralj sighed and asked again, "Amvir, tell me. What's wrong?"

Still no answer. Tilting Amvir's chin up so he'd face him, he looked at him worriedly, and the prince's eyes darted from one side to another, never meeting his. Tralj took advantage of that and leaned in to kiss him.

Amvir's thoughts ground to an instant halt as soon as he felt Tralj's lips on his own. His thought process instantly kicked back on –_he's my friend…this can't be… Father will kill him…_- the last thought was the most worrisome, but the feelings he'd been locking down rather successfully chose that moment to break through his iron control, and he found himself returning it, thoughts washed aside in the rush.

They pulled apart and Amvir straightened, looking Tralj in the eye now, "How-?" he began, and Tralj finished "-did I know?" At Amvir's nod, Tralj smiled lightly and said, "Your reaction, and I saw that flash behind your shields, and those two together just added up. And-" here he grinned sheepishly, "I have to admit, I figured if I was wrong I could pass the whole thing off as a weird dream you had."

Amvir chuckled, and replied, "I doubt that, I have a pretty strong distinction between dreams and reality," he saddened, "Most dreams aren't anywhere near as pleasant."

"Well either way, you had me worried," Tralj's eyes glinted cheerfully, "I'd doubted my ability to pull that one off, so it had occurred to me to recruit Urtho into blurring it appropriately."

"You really thought it through," the prince snorted. "No spontaneous acts from _you_!"

"I had to think about something those nights on the road," he retorted, smile taking the edge off his words.

"Oh really? And what were _those_ thoughts like?" Amvir smirked.

Tralj raised an eyebrow and whispered in his ear, voice rough, "Let me show you-"


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Kiyamvir woke up first, still leaning against his friend's chest. He slowly extricated himself from his friend's arms and got dressed. Strapping on his weapons and tying his ebony hair back in a small tail at the nape of his neck, he went to inspect the body.

Kaled'a'in as he had suspected, with no signs of torture and turning to Ma'ar's side that his father had taught him to use so one spy might recognize another if he made any. Fat chance of that. Rolling the body over so he could see the extent of the damage to the rug, he nodded in satisfaction. Minimal stains from death. Easy to clean up and purge of any illness or disease that remained. Doing that required little strength, and he stripped the sheet off the bed, wrapping the body in it expertly. He sensed that Tralj was awake, and he walked back into his room, to see his guard and friend finishing strapping his weapons to himself. He looked at Amvir and asked briskly, "Body?"

"Wrapped in a sheet. Stains were minimal, they're all ready gone," Amvir replied, slightly relieved that nothing had changed between them.

Tralj smiled slightly, "Efficient," his smile morphed into a grimace. "Practice makes perfect I assume?"

"Yes, many people have died to stain carpets in the palace, I clean up a lot of it for practice," he replied calmly. Tralj found it slightly sad that he found something like death and bodies something to be treated casually and without respect. Then he remembered his charge's father, and his regret deepened. His charge would have turned out so different if Ma'ar wasn't his father. But then they wouldn't have met, so maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

"All right, what should we do with it? You can't really disguise a body wrapped in a sheet as anything other than a body in a sheet," Amvir asked, then smiled bitterly, "Also from experience."

Tralj winced and said thoughtfully, "Why hide the fact we have a body? Just say one of Ma'ar's agents attacked you." He hesitated, then asked, "It wasn't one of Ma'ar's agents, was it?"

"No, I checked." That was all he was able to say on the subject for now. He was still trying to drive it through his skull that he could trust Tralj with his life.

Tralj nodded and said, "I'll get his shoulders."

Amvir grabbed the dead man's legs and they went down the stairs with their burden, Tralj walking backwards. "And what unfortunate soul are you carrying?" the mage that had befriended Amvir asked cheerfully from the ground floor as he saw them nearly reach the bottom of the stairs, though they had nearly fallen at least seven times by the time they got there.

"Agent of Ma'ar's. He's not a local, so we're going to just toss the body in some hole somewhere," Tralj shrugged, lie coming to his lips easily.

"Well, the gardeners are adding some trees, I'm sure they won't mind some added fertilizer, especially since they're not there at the moment, head out that way," the mage pointed at a side door leading to the kitchen gardens, and Amvir nodded, "Thanks Vik," then they walked out to the gardens, the site for the trees obvious. They tossed the corpse in and added some dirt to cover up the dead body. With that completed, they walked away to find something constructive to do with their time.

That night, Amvir, exhausted, had sprawled on his bed while his uncle commandeered the fireside chair and Tralj was stretching his legs out on the couch. "So I hear you had an attacker last night?" Urtho asked them with raised eyebrows. Amvir raised his face from the pillow he had it hidden in and grunted, "Yes, and the bastard stuck me with a poisoned needle."

"And yes Urtho, I still feel guilty for that," Tralj winced, he'd be beating himself up for that slip for some time now.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Amvir smiled slightly, which morphed into a grimace of pain as he turned to face them. "I was altering your mental state to be less protective of me. I've been doing that the whole three weeks we've been gone from fathers."

The guard glared at him, and Amvir started to shrug, thought better of it, and said, "Well I couldn't have you breathing down my neck the whole time in name of defense, and I didn't want you to kill yourself doing something stupid to keep me from getting so much as a cut finger."

"I wasn't that bad!" Tralj protested, but feebly, he knew Amvir was right, and the deflatingly superior arch of the prince's eyebrows only confirmed it. Urtho chuckled as Tralj muttered under his breath about prince's who weren't worried enough about their own skin.

"Both of you, thank you for the help with the healers and the horse trainers. And the armsmasters want you two to help them prepare the troops for Ma'ar's army's fighting style, Amvir, the mages would also like your help for dealing with Ma'ar's mages. That can wait for day after tomorrow, depending on how long the armsmasters keep you."

"Will do uncle, and I'm just happy to have something useful to do," Amvir smiled, and his uncle returned it. They were already becoming as close as father and son, so much so that they were nearly the best of friends, with Tralj only completing a trio. Then the Sorcerer left the room, and Tralj waited until the door shut behind him before moving over to the prince.

"Are you all right? You look like you're in pain every time you move," he asked worriedly.

"I feel like red-hot nails are being driven into my back!" he growled into the pillow, "And yes, I do know what that feels like!"

"I wasn't going to ask that but- I would ask why you know that, but I'm sure I don't want to know the answer. And I think a scab on your back broke, your shirt is damp and smells of copper," Tralj informed him.

Amvir muttered and, groaning, he sat up, Tralj helping him stay that way. He pulled his shirt off and then flopped back down on the bed, cursing under his breath. Tralj was looking down at him, eyes wide in horror, and Amvir caught his look, "What? Never seen a guy with his shirt off before?" he joked.

"How the hell did you get all those?" the guardsman asked, ignoring the jibe, focusing instead on the lattice work of scars that covered his chest and abdomen, not all caused by blades. Some were burn marks, others were simple puncture wounds.

"You think that's bad, you should see the ones that die from it!" he cracked, trying to lighten the mood.

Tralj ignored his half-hearted attempts at levity and turned him over onto his stomach, ignoring the prince's yelp of protest as his muscles screamed at even that small motion. The prince was about to make some sort of scathing comment when he felt Tralj's hand trace the brand over his left shoulder blade. "What's this?" he asked quietly.

"You should recognize it, it's my father's personal sign," Amvir replied softly. Tralj noted the tension and knots in the muscles around his neck and started to rub them firmly, the first of the tension zones releasing quickly, causing Amvir to gasp suddenly. "Of course I recognize it," Tralj said quietly, "I don't understand why it's on your skin though."

"I received it when I was eighteen, a coming of age gift if you will. Some present," the prince chuckled bitterly, breaking off with another small yelp when Tralj's hands encountered another tense spot. "He brands it onto all personal retainers or spies that he breaks. He branded it onto me so all would know where my loyalty lay. And then ink went in with the brand, so when the burn is healed, the tattoo itself remains."

"And these puncture wounds?" Tralj asked quietly as his eyes scanned the prince's torso, looking for other knotted muscles.

"Red hot nails being driven into my back. Told you I knew what it felt like," Amvir mumbled.

"Did your father do this to you?" the guard was appalled at the thought, but he couldn't think of who else could have done this.

"Yes, to test out new methods and so I knew what the victims were going through. At least, that's what he said. I think he just liked hearing me scream," Amvir replied easily, "And it takes a hell of a lot to get me to scream, so he had to try a lot more exotic methods to elicit that response."

"You mean I'm supposed to defend you when your own father does you the most harm?" Tralj hissed, indignant at the very idea.

"Naturally. That's how things work. You protect me so that he can hurt me more, and be the only one to have that privilege," Amvir shrugged, muscles moving smoothly under Tralj's hands. "Thanks, that did help, I can move now. Only residual soreness."

He started to push himself up but Tralj grabbed his shoulders and flipped him over so he was lying on his back again. "Why was there blood on your shirt, there are no bleeding wounds on your back," Tralj asked him softly, watching his face carefully for sign of any sort of misdirection.

"I healed them already. I hadn't noticed through the pain in my back, but when you pointed it out it was easy enough to fix," Amvir shrugged, face and eyes open. "I'm telling the truth."

Tralj's mouth twitched, but then his face returned to its impassive state, "Amvir, why doesn't anyone know he does this to you?"

"Look, Tralj, I don't know why you think it's such a big deal. Are other fathers that different? Sure, they don't use as many exotic torture methods, but isn't breaking a child's arm the same as flaying the skin off his back?"

Tralj was going to answer but was sidetracked by the last, "He flayed the skin off your back?"

"Three times. Answer the question Tralj. Is it that different?"

"No, but dammit, that's not _normal_. The majority are not like that, or at least, they're not so bad as to cause the extent of wounds. Sure, breaking an arm can be just as bad as- okay, I think flaying the skin of someone's back is worse, but that may just be me- but it's one time. Judging by your scars, this has happened more times than most soldiers and guards are harmed. And we usually are healed so completely that we don't have scars," Tralj replied, frustration at Amvir's calm acceptance of his fate bleeding into his voice.

"Actually, I agree with you, breaking an arm is better than having the skin on your back flayed. I should know, I've done both. And I have the scars, but not all the scar tissue, just the superficial scars. Father wanted me to keep the scar tissue too, but the healers in the palace all just leave the superficial evidence, for both of us. They don't want the death of an Emperor or his Heir on their heads for not healing completely. He says the more scars an Emperor has, the more respect he can gain from his troops," Amvir shrugged, "I doubt it really. Scars aren't everything. I got most of these tied down in my father's interrogation rooms, not on a battlefield."

"Amvir, what your father does to you is sickening," Tralj said finally, though it took some time for him to find the words.

The prince chuckled and pushed himself up, "I'm sure plenty of people would agree with you. I might, I know I'd never treat a kid the way I've been treated, but you know, it's done me some good. I have a pain resistance like you wouldn't believe!"

Tralj opened his mouth to snap something back at him, but Amvir grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled Tralj towards him, lips blocking the words from escaping him. Pulling away, Tralj whispered, "Amvir, please, don't avoid the topic."

The prince's mouth twitched into a smile, "What, I can't just kiss you because I've wanted to for at least a year, and only found out you wouldn't kill me for it yesterday?"

"You can, but-" Tralj held up a finger, "You're still avoiding the subject. Please Amvir, just talk to me."

"If I tell you everything my father has done to me, when we return, you won't be able to act as a loyal servant to Ma'ar," Amvir said bluntly, face solemn.

"Amvir, I want to know," Tralj begged. "Please, I don't want him to be able to hurt you anymore."

"He will. That is inevitable," the prince sighed, expression resigned. "You can't do anything to stop that."

"Then we won't go back," Tralj replied simply. "Urtho won't want to send you back if that's what awaits you."

"I will not have Urtho fret over me!" Amvir snapped, going rigid, eyes flashing, "I can _handle_ it Tralj! I will be _fine_!"

"But will I? I can feel the pain you do now Amvir, and what's it going to be like for me? Will I be able to handle it?" Tralj asked quietly.

The prince looked shocked, and then he withdrew, into himself. Tralj felt the link he had to Amvir start to close off and lurched forward, "No!" Amvir's eyes opened and the guardsman was startled to see tears in them.

"I can't be responsible for your death Tralj! I can't!" he shook as Tralj pulled him into his arms.

"Amvir, don't cut me out, please," Tralj whispered as Amvir shuddered, still trying to block their connection while Tralj worked on keeping it open.

"You don't understand Tralj, I have too. Otherwise he'll find out and break you. I wouldn't be able to live with that," Amvir whimpered, but he stopped trying to block their bond.

"At least agree to consider staying here?" Tralj let the silence remain for a while, but had to break it in order to resolve the problem.

"Consider it," Amvir muttered, and Tralj took that as assent. Tilting his friend's head back gently, he let his lips fall against the prince's, and Amvir pulled him down next to him.

The next day, they both went to help the armsmasters, though Amvir only helped half the time, and by midmorning was working with the mages. At noon, the head mage ordered him to eat and rest for a few hours at the least, since he'd nearly worked himself to exhaustion.

He easily remedied that by accessing the nearest node and drawing in enough energy to bring him back to normal. Munching on a piece of bread as he wandered around and exchanged news with people he knew. He was truly starting to enjoy himself, when he saw a ten year old boy and an eight year old girl ride in, the young girl sobbing. Making his way there along with a swarm of other people, he overheard that Ma'ar had overrun their town, and the gryphons that had been with them along with everyone else had been captured, as well as a southern army patrol that was stuck there.

Paling, knowing very well what would happen to the gryphons and gryphlets, Kiyamvir was able to find out where the village was and how to get there, and then he took off running. Reaching the stables, he saddled his horse, one of the Kaled'a'in warhorses that had a racer somewhere in his bloodline, and left, no one noticing his departure.

After an hour of riding, he reached the village. Dismounting and heading closer on foot, he left his horse near a creek so it wouldn't wander too far, unless he wasn't back by the next morning. Then it would head back, and with any luck, Tralj would figure out what was happening. Making it to a copse of trees that surrounded the village, he could see the tents used by the foot soldiers, while the people of the village were tied together by the ankles and wrists in the center of town. Every once and a while, an officer would come out and either cut a woman free, or tie one back to the rest, and Amvir knew very well what was going on there.

Forcing his eyes elsewhere, Amvir saw the makarr and a glistening ribcage with feathers stuck too it. Tears gathered in his eyes when he saw the dead gryphlet, knowing almost exactly how it had occurred. Seeing the adult gryphons and one other gryphlet, nearly fledged, in cages nearby, bleeding and frantic, his eyes narrowed. They had already started? Ma'ar preferred that the wings were clipped- these gryphons hadn't had their wings clipped, and had already started being tortured. What could be going on?

The makarr stirred in their sleep, and Amvir realized what would happen. The next morning, one of the gryphons, probably the young one, would be let loose, and forced to either fly and try to escape the hungry makarr, who would quickly catch it and kill it, or stay grounded and face sure death. "Bastards," he murmured, eyes still roving the village and camp, looking for the army patrol that had been caught by them.

A tortured scream reached his ears, and following the sound, Amvir found himself staring at the large communal barn used to store grain. "They wouldn't have-" he whispered in horror. But they had.

Men that had belonged to the army patrol, around six of them, were in an ungraceful heap on one side, and were obviously dead or nearly, therefore not providing any more fun for the officers that preferred the blood and pain of grown men to rape. That meant that there were fourteen still in there or in a makarr's stomach. At least one was still alive, judging by the periodic screaming.

Using the lengthening shadows as cover, Amvir nearly tripped over an unconscious sentry. Taking the man's crossbow and quiver of bolts, he slit the soldier's throat before moving on. Coming up on the makarr, he changed the way he was walking to that of a confident mage, who knew what he was doing. That would not cause the makarr to wake, at least not until he killed a few of them.

Hoping the five of the flock were all there was in the whole encampment, Amvir used his sword to kill two, shot another in the back of the skull, and used a knife on the last two. Surprised that they hadn't woken up, the prince shrugged mentally, they were probably too stuffed from their meal of baby gryphlet to really be aware of the world when they fell asleep. Despite the fact that it was a sickening thought, he had to hope that good fortune held, but without the deaths that caused it.

The gryphons were watching him with wild eyes, and he went over to their cages. Smiling slightly, these were cages he'd helped make, he was able to open them easily, and without alerting anyone to the fact. The gryphons came out of their cages quickly, and watched him with puzzled hostility. Amvir simply nodded to them, and then slipped back into the village, leaving it up to them on how they would escape.

Stopping in the shadow of one home, Amvir mused on who he would go after next. Those that were being tortured, or the ones in the village center? Thankfully, none of the foot soldiers were around, so as long as he was able to kill them all without any calling the alert, he'd be okay. Seeing one man pick a young girl, probably only six, as his next victim, decided him. He dragged the screaming child to the house that was two doors down from where Amvir was.

Stealing over there, Amvir went through the back in time to glimpse the girl being dragged into the bedroom. Kicking in the door, he shot the man in the back and dragged the girl out of the way, happy that no harm had reached her. "Stay in here for a while, okay? I need to take care of the others. When the men being tortured are freed, then come out, all right?" Amvir told her quietly. She nodded, tears still running down her face.

Leaving that house, he proceeded to do the same at each home, until all the raping officers were killed, and their victims had been warned to stay inside for a time, until there was no chance of them alerting the other officers to a change of power. Now he had to free the poor men who were being tortured in the barn. Before he even got there, Amvir could smell the familiar scent of blood and sweat, mixed in with grime and bodily waste. Underlying all that was the smell of grain, mingling with all the others, to remind anyone who came what the original purpose of this building was.

Walking through the side door, he saw that, thankfully, these officers kept to the standard layout of a torture chamber, so even blindfolded, Amvir would be able to find his way around. Those who had not been interrogated yet or had collapsed while being questioned were tied up against the wall nearest him. They were in the shadows, but Amvir couldn't risk them making noise and alerting the officers to an intruder.

Eyes adjusting to the flickering light of torches and a small camp stove that was heating the brands, Amvir made his way around in a circle, killing only three of the eleven officers that were amateurs in the art of interrogation, the others he left unconscious on the ground. Cutting down their victims, only a few were able to stand, and those few helped support those that couldn't. Leaving them for a moment, Amvir went over to the men tied to the wall, and cut them down as well, those who had been lucky enough to escape attention or get away with less wounds than others ran to help their comrades. The commander was one such, though Amvir knew that the officers had been purposefully saving him for last so he'd be tortured by the sight of his subordinates breaking under the constant pain.

"They will grow suspicious if there is no screaming for a while," he whispered, face haunted. Amvir grinned wickedly, "Why do you think I didn't kill all of them? Do you know where they are keeping the horses?" Nods all around but for the still unconscious ones and those who couldn't move, which numbered four.

"Can you get them while I demonstrate to these men how a true master does the job? And then cut loose the villagers in the center of town, I've taken care of the officers in there, unless some new ones have arrived, but it's been too quiet for that. I got the gryphons out already, I don't know if they've left yet, they might be waiting for cover of darkness. But get as many people out as you can. I'll cover here until midnight, then I need to leave," Amvir explained hurriedly, and the soldiers looked surprised at his extensive planning.

"All right, that seems a sound plan, but for one thing," the commander gave Amvir a hard look, "You leaving alone. What if you're overwhelmed by the members of this camp because the remaining officers sound the alarm? It might happen at any moment."

"Shit, I'd hoped they were all here," Amvir thought for a moment or two, then said, "All right, get the horses, and I'll wake these guys up and get them screaming. If we're lucky, we'll get out without officers calling the alarm, if we're not, I can still take care of them better than you can, after all-" here he grinned sickly, "-I have all these weapons to choose from." He waved his hand around the building at all the various devices and apparatus' that were crude in the face of what his father had in his personal interrogation rooms.

The commander shook his head again, and said, "I'll stay with you. My men can get the horses. We'll get all of them, and get the villagers out on those horses as well as us. Do you have a horse?"

"Waiting in the forest. If I don't reach him by dawn's light, he'll run back to Urtho's forces and with any luck they'll figure out what's going on. They've probably noticed I'm missing by now," Amvir had to grimace at the thought of what Tralj's reaction would be when he got back.

The army men nodded and left quickly, their badly wounded barely able to walk, but thankfully able to keep silent. Turning to the commander, Amvir handed him a knife from a nearby table and hissed, "Step one, cut out their tongues so they can't cry an alarm, but can still scream."

He nodded, and started at one end of the group of officers, Amvir at the other. They finished their halves at nearly the same time, and Amvir asked him, "I have no preference, so which one first?"

"That one," the commander pointed at one officer who was particularly covered in blood. "He was the most enthusiastic."

Amvir nodded and dragged the man to the wall. Picking out one of his personal favorites, the prince admired the workmanship of it. It was clean of blood, so no one had used it yet, and that was a terrible waste.

It was based on a classical cat'o'nine tails whip, but instead of leather, it was chain with a leather wrapped base for easier gripping. The last six inches of the finer chains that the thicker one split into were covered both in spikes resembling that of a thorn bush, as well as small balls that were covered in spikes. Letting it coil in the camp stove, Amvir used the time waiting for the man to wake up for it to heat to red-hot proportions. The commander moved to the side to watch, seeing the expert way Amvir handled the devices.

The officer selected groaned, and then woke up slowly, realizing what had happened to him. Amvir smiled, looking rather demonic in the half-light, and began.

It didn't take long for the officer to be screaming in more agony than the patrol's men had endured, and the commander was white faced, often unable to watch what was being done to the man, despite what the officer had done to his own men. Unfortunately, the men getting the horses had been noticed as they helped the villagers onto the horses so they could leave, and some of the officers and foot soldiers that weren't completely drunk led an attack on the village. Tossing his sword and crossbow to the commander, who caught them easily, Amvir grabbed a goring hook and kept the chain whip, which was still red hot.

Running out into the village center, Amvir threw himself into the fight, commander close behind, since they were one of the few still able to fight. The way from the village to the forest was still clear, and many villagers and badly wounded patrol men were able to escape that way. Soon the commander and Amvir, as well as the other three army men who were still functional, were holding of the swarm as the last few managed to escape.

A battle-scream from a non-human throat pierced the sounds of battle, and everything paused for a moment. Those of Ma'ar's forces hoped it was a swarm of makarr, while those on Amvir's side hoped it was a gryphon or two to help hold them off. Taking advantage of the pause, a few of Ma'ar's men threw themselves at the commander, who was staring up at the sky in hope and fear. Amvir lunged forward and took the blows meant for the man while still managing to kill them all. That delay was all it took for the two gryphons who'd been imprisoned to dive down and bring death to the troopers. Amvir finally remembered that he was a mage, and used his power to turn the granary into a giant fireball.

That was too much for the slightly drunk men of Ma'ar, and they broke and ran, fleeing back to their own camp instead of facing a pair of furious gryphons, and fighters that they were sure were lead by a demon from the bowels of hell. Amvir started to shake after they'd left, which surprised him. Looking down at his hands, he saw that his left one was pale as chalk underneath the crimson stain. Taking the chain whip, he wrapped the non-spiky part around his arm to hold it together, and stuck the goring hook on his belt. The commander wiped his sword off on one of the dead men's tunic and passed it to Amvir, who sheathed it, nodding in thanks.

Amvir stumbled as he tried to head back to the forest, and the commander appeared at his side, supporting him as they made their way to the trees. "I have some unfinished business," Amvir told them when they found two extra horses waiting with Amvir's. "You four go on ahead, I'll be in soon enough."

The commander looked like he'd argue, not being one for leaving a man behind, but then he looked over at his three able-bodied men. Two of them looked like they would collapse at any moment, and he saw that he had no choice, he had to get them back as soon as he could. Nodding, he said to Amvir, "I see no other choice."

Helping his two injured men onto horses, he and his other able-bodied soldier jumped on as well, and headed off into the darkness, but not before both the commander and the other soldier bowed slightly to show respect for the man who had saved them. Now that he didn't have to worry about image, Amvir turned deathly pale and started shaking like a leaf from weakness and blood loss. Just the three steps to his horse caused a deep ache in his bones, and Amvir knew very well that if it wasn't for his amazingly high pain resistance, he wouldn't even be able to function.

Using his one good arm to drag himself up into the saddle, Amvir was careful not to let the barbed chain touch his horse's side as he turned the horse back to the village. He needed to light it afire, to keep the men from Ma'ar's army from looting it any further. He also needed to see to the corpse of the gryphlet. Burning should suffice.

Drawing on a nearby ley line, Amvir was able to set fire each building in the village, and he heard no screams, so no one was inside them. Turning his attention to the corpses of the makarr and the gryphlet skeleton glistening in the moon and fire light, tears started running down his face. This truly brought home the monstrosities his father considered every day work, and he had to admit, that Tralj's idea of not going back to Ma'ar was looking more appealing by the moment. It was something to discuss with Urtho.

Lighting fire to those corpses as well, Amvir then turned his horse back into the trees, looking forward to reaching Urtho's camp at dawn.


	4. Chapter 4

By dawn the next day, Tralj was ready to go ballistic. He'd found out that no one had seen Amvir for a few hours when the pain hit, and Urtho and the healers had determined that haring off to find Amvir would be detrimental to his health. Grinding his teeth, Tralj glared off at the horizon. When he got his hands on that prince- _admit it Tralj, you'll probably screech for a healer, and then be so grateful he's all right, he'll get off without more than a brief rant, _he thought wryly.

Joking mood evaporated, he mused on what the commander of the captured army patrol had said, and could only assume that something had happened to delay the prince. Grimacing as he felt the pain roll over him again, he froze, trembling with the effort of staying upright and not screaming in agony. It wasn't even his pain! He spotted one of the gryphons returning, and the gryphon saw him, one of the few people awake at this time.

"Tralj!" the gryphon panted, landing in front of him, flinging dust into his face, "I found him!"

The guardsman took off for the stables, grabbing his horse and saddling the mare, then mounting and riding back over to the gryphon. "Well?" he asked dangerously, "Are you going to tell me where he is?"

The gryphon nodded, and launched into the sky, gaining altitude until Tralj finally saw the gryphon go northeast, in a straight line. Following the gryphon at a canter, the guardsman continued to feel pain roll over him in waves, and it was getting no easier to deal with, though it didn't intensify as he got closer, as he'd suspected it would. That made it somewhat easier.

Seeing Amvir's mare by a small group of trees that had sprung up around the source of a creek, he urged his horse to go faster, reaching them quickly. The gryphon landed a distance off to avoid spooking the horses, and by the time he came trotting over, Tralj had Amvir sitting up and in his arms. He was muttering darkly into his charge's ear, tears running down his face, and the young mage wasn't responding, head resting against Tralj's chest, tear streaks on his own face.

"Will he be all right?" the gryphon asked worriedly. He hadn't cared about Amvir before, but now that he and the other gryphons knew what lengths he'd gone too save three of their number, one a gryphlet, gave him instant approval and entrance into the small number of humans they considered one of their own. Tralj and Urtho were also among that number, though Tralj had last seen a healthy gryphon not being tortured by Ma'ar when he was seven.

"He should be, he's survived worse," Tralj said tiredly, shuddering as pain wracked him again.

"I'll be fine," the mage muttered. "Just don't remove this," he held up his left arm to reveal a blood soaked mass of chain and spikes wrapped around it. "It's keeping me from bleeding out."

Tralj got his mare to go down on her knees and put Amvir in the saddle. The horse stood again, and Tralj swung up behind him, Amvir sagging against him as the guardsman reached around to hold his horse's reins. The gryphon nudged Amvir worriedly, then leaped back into the sky, straining to reach his former heights again. Tralj's mare went into a trot, Amvir's horse following tiredly.

When they reached the camp surrounding Urtho's Tower, Tralj was surprised to find a small group waiting for them. A healer and his apprentice were there, along with the commander of the patrol Amvir had saved. Urtho and Vik were both there, as were two gryphons, one being the one who'd found Amvir, the other being one of the three Amvir had set free.

"A welcoming committee?" Amvir managed weakly when they reached the group, "I'm truly impressed."

Tralj shook his head and dismounted, pulling Amvir down as well. The healer took over then, and his assistant came up with a stretcher that they used to carry Amvir to the tent where the other people who'd been involved in the village raid. "Hey!" Tralj called after them, and the healer paused, looking over at him, slightly exasperated. "The chain wrapped around his arm is keeping him from bleeding out, and be careful! There're spikes on it!"

The healer looked surprised, then nodded and continued. Tralj was about to rub his eyes when he saw that his hands were streaked with Amvir's blood. A horse trainer came out and took the two horses in to be tended too, and Tralj nodded his thanks. Urtho came over and rested a hand on Tralj's shoulder, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up, and then we can go see how Amvir's doing. Vik will let me know if something drastic happens."

After Tralj had cleaned up and gotten something to eat, the healer's apprentice came running up to them and gasped, "You'd better see this."

They both went after him, worried that something horrible had happened. Vik was standing outside the tent, pale and shaky, "Vik! What happened?" Tralj asked when they reached him. "What's wrong?"

"The healer- when he tried to treat his back wound, he wasn't able to see it clearly enough. When they cut his shirt off- it's-" the mage started to shake. "What did that bastard do to him?" he finished in a whisper.

Tralj paled, and turned to stop Urtho from going in, but it was too late, and the Mage of Silence had already walked into the tent. Bracing himself for what he knew was coming, Tralj followed him. The healer looked appalled, as did the other soldiers in the tent who were awake. Amvir was unconscious on a cot, upper body cleaned of blood and grime. The chain was still wrapped around his left arm; the goring hook and his sword were on a low table nearby. Blood soaked rags that Tralj recognized as Amvir's old shirt were in a heap on the floor of the tent, but none of those held Urtho's gaze.

The scars and new cuts that were scattered across his chest were what held the attention of the Mage of Silence, and he turned to Tralj, and said calmly, "Ma'ar?"

"Yes," Tralj's shoulders slumped, knowing that now Urtho would be set even further against Ma'ar.

"What?" Amvir yelped, shooting upright, blood draining out of his face.

"Amvir! Calm down," Tralj said, quickly kneeling next to him, "Ma'ar's not here. He's hundreds of leagues away. We're in Urtho's camp now, remember? You recently got back from being an absolute idiot and nearly getting yourself killed but managing to save three gryphons, and around fifty villagers and fourteen soldiers that are on Urtho's side?"

"Right," Amvir relaxed, "I remember now." He looked down at his left arm in puzzlement, "What, could you not undo it?"

"We tried, but it's rather firmly stuck," the healer explained, and Urtho and the others in the tent saw that the scarring continued all down his back, the black brand of his father's personal sign dominating. Tralj noticed that Amvir was shaking from exhaustion, and sat on the cot so his friend and charge could lean against him.

Amvir grabbed some of the rags that were his former shirt, and wrapped his right hand in them. Grabbing the tail end of one of the thinner chains, he snagged the hooks on the fabric and started to unwind it. "You can't go much furth-" the healer was interrupted by the chain getting stuck, part of Amvir's skin pulling up slightly since the hooks were stuck in it. "That's where we were stuck," the man sighed.

Amvir looked at him, puzzled, "Why? It's easy, all you have to do is yank." Grabbing the thin chain he was holding, he tugged and it was pulled off, unwinding quickly, bits of ragged skin hanging from the hooks. Continuing like that, Amvir didn't see the appalled looks that had returned to the faces of those present at his calm treatment of ripping up his own arm. As soon as he unwrapped the entire chain-whip, the healer grabbed his arm and picked off the bits of sleeve carefully, then he went into a trance and healed the partially skinned forearm. There was still scarring, but it was hardly noticeable compared to the rest of his body. Halfway through, Amvir passed out, exhausted, and Tralj let him stretch out on the cot again, fast asleep.

The guardsman and Urtho walked out of the tent in silence, and walked a bit more, Urtho returning the greetings he received, until the mage spoke, "Is that why you were asking me if the war with Ma'ar was inevitable?"

"I was wondering if Amvir could stay here rather than coming back with me when I returned to spy. I was already under suspicion when I left, I can't return in the palace. I was figuring I could join up in the army and continue there," he sighed, shoulders slumping.

"His father did that to him?" they had reached the Tower and when Tralj saw the small group waiting for Urtho, he whispered, "I'll talk to you later. I'll wait in your study."

Climbing the stairs up to Urtho's private study, where very few ever ventured, Tralj sat down in one of the large plush chairs and tilted his head back, relaxing now that he knew where Amvir was and that he would be all right. The warmth and his relaxed state caused him to doze off, since he hadn't gotten any sleep last night, between the waves of pain and his fretting.

He woke up slowly and saw Urtho sitting across from him, reading out of a large book. Smiling slightly at the scene, so similar to memories from his childhood being raised by Urtho, he whispered, "How long have I been out?"

"Hours. It's dusk now, I came in and figured you could use the sleep, I doubted you got any last night," the mage replied calmly, marking the page and closing the book.

"I didn't, I was too worried, and I can feel Amvir's pain now, so it was coming on in waves. It's- it's bad," Tralj shuddered at the memories, even now feeling aches that weren't his own.

"Were all those wounds caused by his father?" Urtho asked solemnly, returning to the previous topic.

"Some might have been caused by weapons training, but the worst ones weren't. He didn't want to tell me much, but what he let slip out was bad. He's been branded, which was the large black symbol on his back, he's had red-hot nails plunged into his back as well. He's also had his arm broken, and the skin flayed off his back no less than three times," Tralj started to feel sick as he thought on what kind of sick bastard would do that to their son.

Urtho looked appalled, and he whispered, "Goddess."

"I don't want him to return with me," Tralj said bluntly. "I don't want to turn him over to living with a father who tortures him so much that Amvir won't admit that it's despicable, only that he probably wouldn't do it to any kid he knew either. No mention of adults of course, but he's been trained by his father since he was four at the least. He's as good as Ma'ar is in torture and interrogation."

"I don't want him to return to that kind of life either. I've only known him a few weeks, but that boy is now one of my dearest friends. He's very intelligent and a powerful mage in his own right, he's also a prince, so he's not intimidated by me now that he knows-" Urtho now looked slightly offended, "Did he think _I_ would do something like that too him? Is that why he was always wary of me the first few days?"

"He's conditioned himself to assume that any new acquaintance is an assassin sent by his father to kill him or find out about his traitorous thoughts about wanting to join you and your forces and then turn him over to Ma'ar, who would torture him to death," the guardsman explained, sorrowful as he remembered what it was his charge had seen to force him into that belief.

"What made him think that? Does his father know that his son does not trust him?" Urtho was now curious, "Ma'ar wouldn't stand for an Heir that wasn't completely loyal to him."

"Ma'ar doesn't know. At least, I don't think he does. This trip may be a test of loyalty to make sure he is in fact Ma'ar's Heir," Tralj grimaced. "As for what he saw- it was bad."

"Was it Dreamhawk?" Urtho asked quietly, using his sister's birth name, which hadn't been used by any but him in at least seventeen years.

"He watched her get tortured to death, hiding since he knew his father would kill him if he knew he was spying," Tralj sighed.

Urtho bit his lip and bowed his head, "I suspected as much," he whispered, "When Amvir never spoke of her to me even after I knew you'd told him of our relation."

"He hadn't wanted to hurt you. Also, he'd figured you'd want to know what had been done to her and, in his words, 'I will not put him through that. I will not put anyone through that. If I torture someone, no relative will be watching.'," the guard shook his head. "He hasn't even told me what was done to her, I only glimpsed the end result when I was sucked into his mind."

After only one day, which startled the Healers no end, Amvir was able to walk, so was discharged, though ordered to report back if he felt any sort of relapse. It was evening, and he headed back to the Tower, now most had forgotten the original reason of his living there, but the fact he was a powerful mage hadn't been, so it was simply assumed he was there to support Urtho in his spell casting if it was ever needed, and to protect people from any sort of loss of control. Jealousy wasn't anywhere, they knew how hard he worked, and it was almost taken for granted that he lived in the Tower.

Staring at the steps balefully, he sighed, and started trudging up them, knowing that if he didn't start, he probably never would. He was probably only halfway up the stairs when he heard someone rushing down, and when he looked up he saw Tralj nearly running down. He stopped next to him and wordlessly wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling Amvir's arm across his shoulders to support him. Finally reaching Amvir's room, Tralj shut the door behind them and eased Amvir down onto the bed. "What were you thinking trying to get up the stairs on your own? You're lucky a _hertasi_ saw you and came to get me, you wouldn't have made it!"

Amvir didn't get a chance to reply, Urtho having just walked into the room, "Amvir, you're all right," the man sighed in relief. "When a _hertasi_ came up to tell us that you were coming up the stairs, Tralj just took off! I figured that by the time I caught up you'd be here."

"Good timing," his nephew replied, "Tralj was just getting started on a rant."

"Well I'm afraid you'll have to postpone that rant, Tralj. I think it's time we had a talk, we three," Urtho said solemnly. "About what will happen when it's time for you two to leave."

Tralj and Amvir exchanged searching looks, and then Amvir transferred his gaze to his uncle, saying softly, "First uncle, something you should know about us- we're more than friends."

"Urtho, I think we're lifebonded," Tralj continued, not taking his eyes off the prince's worried face.

The Sorcerer paled, "This does put a different slant on things," he mused. Then he grinned at Tralj, "Oh go ahead you fool."

The guardsman flipped over so he was on Amvir's other side and curled his arm around Amvir's waist, holding him against himself, grinning impishly at Urtho as Amvir shifted so his head rested on Tralj's shoulder. Urtho pulled a chair over and sat down, "Now that we're all _comfortable_," Urtho drawled the last word, and the two grinned at him. "We can talk. Amvir- I saw the scars. I don't want you to go back to Ma'ar. How soon do you think you can Gate to your quarters in the palace to get everything you need?"

"I don't need much," Amvir objected, but Urtho raised his finger, "We can't leave anything that could be used to track you. We just need you to- disappear. So, how soon?"

"A week maybe?" he suggested, calculating his full recovery and readiness to go so close to his father again. Urtho nodded agreeably, then he turned to Tralj, "And when do you think you can safely reappear in the army as a conscript?"

"As soon as you need me too. Probably before Ma'ar realizes Amvir has vanished. He won't care about Amvir's stuff disappearing, but when he doesn't return a week after Ma'ar summons him home, he'll get suspicious and send out a manhunt order for me," the guardsman replied, calm about the idea. Amvir looked like he would object, but bit his tongue, unwilling to speak against it since he knew how vital Tralj's intelligence was to preserving the Kaled'a'in.

"I'm sorry Amvir, but the intelligence he gathers truly is necessary," Urtho still caught the look, and the prince smiled at him ruefully.

"I know that. Hell, I should, I've sent enough agents to their deaths in the name of keeping my father on the throne and unchallenged. It's just- we'll have to block our bond. Ma'ar will spot something of that nature, or at least his officers will, and if he found out who you were linked too, he would stop at nothing to get me to come back to get you out. Another consideration is, how does Tralj contact you? You may have to change the entire system because Ma'ar will go over all Tralj's connections with a fine toothed comb. Any contacts or agents you have there you might want to warn off," the fierce light in his eyes and the viciously accurate analysis revealed the underlying characteristics that made him a true Prince.

Urtho walked over to the desk and brought back a paper and silver stick. "I'm taking notes, my operational methods have been less than fully determined by knowledge, more by trial and error, and reading for second hand knowledge," the Sorcerer explained. "That's another thing you could do for me Amvir, review my security procedures and go over them with the generals. Now that I've agreed to help the King, I'm a little stuck with this. And I don't know much about strategy and that."

"I wouldn't expect you too," Amvir grinned, though his eyes were focused on a distant horizon, envisioning new strategies for spying that he could use to keep spies, including Tralj, safe.


	5. Chapter 5

It was two weeks later, and Tralj had just departed to join Ma'ar's army as a raw recruit, hopefully one far away from the capitol so he wouldn't risk any of his former contacts recognizing him. Amvir was taking the place of Urtho's usual scribe, a _hertasi_ named Pravat, while his uncle described the procedure for establishing permanent Gates. He hadn't ever recorded it, and it was only after Amvir's relentless pestering that he finally agreed to it, but on the condition it was stored in the vault, in one of the most secure libraries Amvir had ever set up. The two of them had spent a good three days warding the room to ensure that no one could get to them unless either of them trusted the person completely and told them everything.

"Have you ever recorded your own findings?" Urtho asked suddenly when Amvir finished the final records and bound the short treatise together between thin leather covers.

"My own findings about what? I never truly had time for any sort of creative work while with my father, and here I'm a little busy. Father was more focused on destruction than creating anything truly unique. Those makaar I was telling you about, cheap imitations of your gryphons so he can fight them. Maybe they've improved, I haven't seen the designs in years, but I doubt they've changed much," Amvir replied, snorting at the thought of his father allowing him the freedom to create his own spells or make his own findings on magic and the nature of it.

"You've never tried pure tinkering?" Urtho stared at him, aghast, though there was a hint of mocking humor in it. "Put that book down! It's not too late to cure that- that madness! Come! I'll make a prime tinkerer and creator of you yet!"

Over three hours later Amvir and Urtho left the vault, their working clothes striped with soot, sweat, and other grime, Amvir actually had a black stripe of coal running down his face from when he'd mixed a whole bunch of strange chemicals and substances together to see what would happen. He hadn't been disappointed.

"See how much you've been missing?" Urtho clapped him on the shoulder gleefully, "That was fantastic! Now all you have to do is start making breakthroughs in magical theory!"

"Oh yes, because that is such a simplistic matter," Amvir rolled his eyes at his uncle's enthusiasm. "What else is on the agenda for today?"

"You got your things from the palace yesterday, everything's been set up… I know, let's get you your own workroom – there's a suite of them attached to your own room, we'll just need to set up standard security measures. And I can get you a logbook so you can record everything."

"After all, research is the most important thing we have to accomplish right now," Amvir rolled his eyes again, sighing. "What I _meant_, uncle, was are there any matters besides research that we need to accomplish? Gryphon mating approval forms, logistics, supply review, judgement assistance, negotiations with the Kaled'a'in, new refugee set up and welcoming – ringing any bells here?"

Urtho sighed and his shoulders slumped slightly, "Probably," he said sadly, "But… I don't see why I'm suddenly the epitome of authority here!" he threw his hands up in the air, pacing as he grew more agitated, not noticing some hertasi and gryphons watching as they entered the main corridor that held the entrance to the Vault.

"Yes, I'm a Sorcerer, and I like to fancy that I'm a good one and am a decent person, but I'm not a general! I have no experience running a country, much less one in conflict or strife! How am I supposed to deal with this? The king is calling me constantly for advice and less and less of it is magical in nature. When did I become the answer to everyone's questions? Problem with magic? Ask Urtho! Problem regarding truces and treaty lines? Ask Urtho! Problem with property disputes? Ask Urtho! Shethka!" he exploded, tossing a levin bolt at the floor, leaving a scorch mark, "What am I supposed to do?" he asked helplessly.

Kiyamvir sighed and said, "Urtho, you need to do three things. Three things, and all those things will be taken care of."

"Really?" the man asked hopefully.

"Really. First, learn to say no. As in 'no, I don't know the answer to everything' or 'no, solve your own damn property disputes' or 'no, I actually don't know why they would break that treaty' or even 'dammit, no! leave me alone!' Any of those would do perfectly well."

"Second, learn to ask for help. You don't need to solve everything, you can ask other people with more experience than you in certain matters for their ideas, their contributions. Not only do you make them feel good because your taking their input into consideration, resulting in a potentially profitable alliance due to those positive feelings, but you look really smart, when you take advantage of the resources around you, and can even shame others into looking for different solutions besides consulting you, who they have apparently elevated to the status of 'oracle'."

"Third, learn to delegate authority. Find trustworthy subordinates and assign them something. Don't have time to deal with the new refugees? Ask the current refugees to form a committee to welcome them and help get them set up, only coming to you for weekly or biweekly reports or in extraneous circumstances. Set up times once a week where you are available for anyone who has concerns to approach you. If one of those audiences catches your attention, call them in later for a private conference. Ask some hertasi, gryphons, and humans to form a resource management committee to handle logistics, with a biweekly report set up. Urtho, you are falling into the same trap those consulting you are – you think you can do everything, answer everything. You can't. The sooner you realize this, the sooner you'll stop stressing out so much," Amvir concluded.

Urtho stood in contemplative silence for a moment, before nodding slowly, "That all makes sense. It really does. Mind helping me set some of those measures up?"

Amvir smiled, "I'd be happy to. Let's get started."

A few hours later found him walking purposefully through the camp, having left Urtho with the head of the Kaled'a'in tribes to set up some of the committees and authority distributing measures that they had decided on. Now Amvir was attending to something more personal in nature – the fourteen soldiers he had saved were mostly recovered, and only two more were remaining in the healer's tents. He had been unable to visit, being otherwise occupied for the past weeks, but now finally had time to check in with the healers, who would probably descend on him for not coming in to be checked over after his own healing.

As he had expected, on walking into the healer's tent one of the healer's that had worked on him instantly grabbed his arm and dragged him to a stool, "Sit down," he ordered, and Amvir obeyed, amused at the healer's overactive concern.

"Take the shirt off, I need to see if there are any infections," the man said impatiently, and Amvir rolled his eyes even as he obeyed, pulling off his shirt and draping it over his knee. The healer carefully prodded at the wounds, now completely healed, if scarred, ignoring the slightly appalled expressions on the faces of even those who had been present for his last healing.

"Your pardon healer, but may I speak with him?" a familiar voice asked, and Amvir twisted around to see the captain of the squad he had saved standing by the bedside of one of his men.

"Certainly, I am done here, you've healed remarkably well. No other pains from it?" the healer asked, Amvir shaking his head as he pulled his shirt back on.

"Thank you, I realize I'm not the best patient," he said.

The man laughed, and shook his hand, "No worries, I have had far worse. Tamsin."

"Amvir, as I'm sure you realized," Amvir returned the smile, "Tralj has spoken of you."

"We met briefly when he was reporting back once, apparently I made an impression," Tamsin shrugged, "He saved my sister's life."

"He has a disturbing tendency of doing that," Amvir chuckled, before turning to the captain, "It's good to see you without the bloodstains."

"You as well," the captain smiled, "I am Ulrich, Ulrich Capstone, captain."

"Amvir, no surname, mage," he introduced himself once more, shaking the man's hand with a small smile.

"I had a few questions for you regarding some of my men," Ulrich said quietly, "Would you mind?"

"Not at all," Amvir said sadly, leading the way out of the tent, knowing the sort of things the man would need to know. "Torture victims, it would probably be best if they visited a mind healer, but if that is not readily available it would be best if you could keep them around people they trust and have been through similar things. And for the love of Kal'enal, don't pity them!"

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry about that slow update and pathetically short one at that, but I have another chapter or two ready to go, just some slight edits left, and they're longer than this one, so have hope!


	6. Chapter 6

In some ways, Amvir's three step plan to relieve his uncle of stress was successful. The man had more time for his research, he wasn't inundated with requests, and overall he was happier. In other respects, it was an adamant failure, as Urtho was now getting even more calls that had nothing to do with magic whatsoever. One of those requests was to allow his lands to be used as a refugee camp, and that request Urtho could not deny. For that reason they had sent out messengers to all the Kaled'a'in clans, informing them of their new potential safe haven, Amvir helping with the wording, resulting in the two of them waiting in his study.

Talking with his uncle cheerfully as they waited for the rest of the clans' messengers to arrive with their response, Amvir broke off when he felt a twinge of pain come down his bond with Tralj.

"Amvir? Nephew, what's wrong?" Urtho asked, worried at the dismayed expression on the young man's face.

"Someone is hurting Tralj, and for me to feel it after we blocked our bond as much as we could so as to not give him away- it must be bad," his blue-grey eyes, so expressive, looked at his uncle with a deep pain and worry residing there. "To know for sure I have to drop my block."

Urtho nodded and cracked, "I'll catch you if you keel over."

Amvir nodded, taking the offer at face value and not as the joke his uncle had intended. Quickly, so as to get it over with faster, he dropped the block that he had erected so carefully.

Pain that was only like that he had experienced when his father had first tested out new interrogation techniques on him, to make sure that he appreciated what his efforts were doing to the victims supposedly, echoed down it.

Gasping, he felt as if he were being burned, torn in two, and lashed with metal barbs all at once. Collapsing, he felt Urtho catch him and hastily erect shields that weakened the sensation enough for Amvir to get it back under control.

"Father's interrogating him," Amvir whispered in horror, not seeing anything currently present in the room.

Urtho swore and dragged his nephew to a chair, shoving him into it, he knelt and said, "Amvir, I know this will be miserable for you, but I'll get him out and I don't want you to go and get him. If Ma'ar catches you too, the hell Tralj is already going through will double."

Nodding blankly, Amvir ignored everything his uncle told him. When the Sorcerer left, satisfied that he had extracted some sort of binding vow from his nephew, he stirred.

Standing, he went back to his own rooms that he had shared with Tralj when they had first come here. Looking at the permanent Gate terminus he had installed in his room, with Urtho's permission, an idea formed. Reaching for Tralj mentally, he cursed, it was too far for anything coherent to get through. He'd have to rely on the pain he was still being sent.

Sensing that new pains were being added, he knew that Tralj was currently being tortured. Though he could hardly stand the thought of Tralj being in that living hell a moment longer than necessary, he knew better than to open a Gate to a room with his father in it. He'd have to wait until the interrogation was over.

Sitting down on the ground and leaning against a wall, he opened himself fully to Tralj's pain and started to take as much as he could bear onto himself. Since he had quite a high pain resistance (thank you Ma'ar) he was able to take at least half of Tralj's pain away.

When the new pains were no longer being added, Amvir kept the pain he had collected in himself, and went to his desk and scribbled a quick note on a piece of paper. A cot had already been set up, probably by his uncle for when his uncle figured out a way to get to Tralj. That would be useful for when Amvir got Tralj.

Standing in front of the Gate terminus, he reconstructed the image of his father's private interrogation rooms. That was where Tralj would probably be, and if not, he could always get anywhere he wanted from there.

Opening the Gate, in order to make sure Tralj was unconscious when he went in there so he'd be able to get him out without causing too much more pain, he hurled all the pain he'd collected at him, weeping as he did so.

Sensing the shock go through him, he opened the Gate, and ran through. Seeing Tralj in the cell next to him, he broke into it easily, and without the guards noticing. No one was allowed in here after all, only Ma'ar, and those he was going to interrogate.

Blasting the metal cuffs that kept his beloved to the plank of wood that he was bound too, Amvir wept from the intense pain he was getting, and all the wounds he could see had been inflicted on Tralj.

Using magic to carry Tralj flat on his back without moving him too much, Amvir pinned the note to the wood with a knife that had been used on his friend. It simply read: You killed my mother. You will not kill my only friend left as well. Amvir.

Going back through the Gate, he shut that down, then gently set Tralj on the cot. Kneeling next to him, he whispered softly, "Ashke, you're safe, now I'm going to go and get a healer for you. Please don't move too much. That'll make it worse. I'm sorry I had to give your pain back to you like that, but I needed to focus only on the Gate."

Standing, not seeing a response, he left, running down the stairs to find a free healer. Seeing Tamsin, he grabbed him and asked, "Are you desperately needed here?"

"No, why? What's wrong?" he asked, puzzled at the frantic look in Amvir's eyes.

"Tralj. Come on," hearing Tralj's name galvanized the healer and he sprinted after Amvir, eager to see what had become of his friend.

When they walked in the room, Tralj hadn't moved but for breathing. Amvir knelt by his head and placed his hands on the side of his face. He ordered the healer absently, "Only speak Kaled'a'in," then he started to whisper to Tralj in the language as the healer knelt by Tralj's side, horrified by what he saw through the ripped up shirt.

Focusing on the life threatening wounds, he started to heal those completely, and others he just started on the road to healing, but he was horrified by the extent of what had been done to the guard.

When they turned Tralj so they could see his back, Amvir snarled when he saw the brand over his right shoulder blade. "What does it mean?" Tamsin asked, healing it.

Seeing that the outline of the brand was still jet black, he frowned, and was about to try again when Amvir hissed, "Don't bother. That's a tattoo. It won't ever come off. I have one as well."

"Why was he given it?" the healer asked curiously, healing the rest of the wounds on his back, some of them caused by strange contraptions that he never wanted to know about.

"Ma'ar's personal sign. He brands it into anyone that he interrogates personally. If he wants to turn that person to a spy, he uses a much smaller one. I have both. When he realized I couldn't be let out of his sight without extensive security measures, he gave me the larger one. That was when Tralj broke me out," Amvir recited the story that Tralj and he had come up with in order to fool those that asked about his past.

"That's awful," Tamsin said in disgust. "And that's as good as I can do. The rest is really up to him."

"All right, thank you," Amvir said, starting to sink into a trance that would let him mindspeak with Tralj. The healer continued softly, "He'll probably need a mindhealer after this."

Amvir nodded and said simply, "I know." Then the healer nodded and left, assured that his friend knew what kind of damage had been done to Tralj.

"Tralj?" Amvir whispered softly, simply holding his hand in both his own. "Tralj you're safe now. I got you out of Ma'ar's palace as soon as I knew what was going on. Or at least, as soon as I could after I knew what was going on." Eyes filling with tears, he whispered, "I'm sorry I wasn't sooner."

Tralj still didn't respond, even though Amvir knew that he was awake and heard him. "Tralj, I know you can hear me, and I know you can respond, please believe me, I'm not trying to fool you into waking up so my father can torture you again. Why would I do that? I'd feel it just as badly."

Amvir was about to continue when Urtho swept in, eyes flashing. "And what did I tell you about going to get him? If Ma'ar had caught you-"

"I know, he'd be going through twice as much pain. But trust me uncle, I knew what I was doing. He wouldn't have lasted much longer had I waited," Amvir replied, shoulders slumping. "But now he doesn't believe that he's safe. Maybe you'll have better luck."

Standing and walking over to sit in a far corner, Urtho didn't miss the hurt look on his nephew's face.

"Tralj," he whispered so Amvir wouldn't hear him. "Tralj listen to me. You're hurting him with not trusting him. He risked a lot when he let you stay as my agent and I think that it is the least I can do to keep from hurting him further. I don't want you to come into full awareness until I've left the room and Amvir has started talking to you again. Please Tralj, don't hurt him any more than he's already been hurt."

The man nodded, movement almost imperceptible. His eyes remained shut. Urtho sighed and said, voice raised, "Amvir, I have to go- the generals are reporting problems with Shakith."

"That imbecile. If you need him eliminated just let me know and he'll have disappeared or died in action before you could blink," Amvir snorted, walking back to Tralj and sitting on a low stool next to the cot. Urtho sighed, and then left, door shutting behind him.

"Tralj, I heard him. I don't really blame you for trusting Urtho more than me when it comes to my father," Amvir sighed, smiling slightly.

Tralj opened his eyes and gripped his beloved's hand, "It wasn't that I didn't trust you, it was that I knew Urtho wouldn't take foolish risks to get me out and was the least likely to get caught by Ma'ar. You- I couldn't completely guarantee it."

Amvir smiled again, and said, "You're right. I am much more likely to do something stupid. But who can blame me? It's in my blood."

Tralj cracked a smile, then winced as he shifted and one of the still present wounds protested the movement. Amvir carefully helped him sit up. "Let's at least get you off this cot," he murmured, and was able to get him over to their bed and stretched out without causing him much more pain.

Still sitting next to him, Amvir continued holding his hand and said quietly, "I am sorry I couldn't get you out sooner."

"That was the first time Ma'ar had left me alone for more than a few moments. I wouldn't have wanted you to come at any other time, so no apology is necessary. And I owe you thanks for taking some of my pain from me," Tralj retorted with another heartbreakingly weary smile.

Amvir then stretched out next to him and rested his head on Tralj's shoulder, "No thanks necessary. It was all I could do, so I did it. Did it help at all?"

"I noticed didn't I? Every bit helped," Tralj whispered in reply, arm pulling Amvir closer to him. He could sense Amvir's mental presence, starting to numb the pain simply by being there with him. Slowly letting himself relax, Amvir's presence easing his anxiety tremendously, Tralj found himself drifting into a restful and healing sleep, rather than unconsciousness forced on him by a body so racked with pain it could no longer function.

Amvir sensed Tralj relax, and did the same. He knew, better than anyone, that what had been done to him was only the tip of the iceberg. If he had left Tralj there as long as Urtho would have required, his lifebonded would have no longer been himself, but a broken individual. Easing himself into Tralj's mind, he gently sifted through the memories of what had been done to him by Ma'ar, and was relieved. His father had, fortunately, saved the worst for last, and Tralj's mind had not been broken open and patched back together so that anyone who rescued him would be killed in a moment of weakness. It was a favorite of Ma'ar's, at least when it came to spies. Debating blurring the memories to keep them from wounding Tralj's mind, he artfully dulled the edges, so it seemed to have happened a longer time ago than it did, but didn't link it to his subconscious, in order to avoid any sort of nightmare cycle. A few nightmares were healthy, but too many would take their toll. Satisfied with his work, he drew back into his own thoughts, and settled in to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Amvir woke up when he felt Tralj move his arm slightly. "What's wrong?" he asked instantly, jerking awake.

Tralj flinched at his sudden movement and hissed in pain, Amvir wincing, "Sorry, I, of all people, should have known better."

"It's all right," he whispered, leaning back. "It's all right."

Amvir bit his lip, then said, "I hope you don't mind, but I looked at what he did to you, in your memories, and I- didn't precisely _blur_ them, but I- softened the edges. If that makes any sense."

"I noticed, it didn't seem as immediate, as it had before," Tralj smiled reassuringly, "It's all right _ashke_. So, now that I'm back and probably won't be returning to Ma'ar's land for some time, you can catch me up on all that I've missed."

"Well, Skandranon's joined the combat wings fully now, and the Kaled'a'in are coming, with most of the clans coming to stay with Urtho," Amvir cocked his head to one side and asked, "Does that mean some of your relatives are coming?"

"People that know me from before are, but I highly doubt any relatives. I didn't have any that would take me in when I was first orphaned, which was why Urtho took me under his care. Some childhood friends and those who helped train me might be there, as with my foster family, but I doubt that," Tralj explained, Amvir walking over to a wardrobe and pulling out one of Tralj's Kaled'a'in shirts, a dark green with crimson trim, and tossing it to him. He caught it and sat up slowly, wincing, while Amvir continued digging around for more of his clothes.

"Nothing really new, oh! Wait- there's a new kestra'chern. His name's Amberdrake, Skan's his friend and introduced us. And Springleaf is a full horse traine-"

"Wait, did you say Amberdrake?" Tralj asked, finishing with his tunic and staring at his lifebonded in shock.

"Yes, why? Know him?"

"Know him? He was a foster brother of mine!"

Amvir turned to him, looking both jubilant and sad, "Ashke, he's the only one left. He's been searching for his family for some time now and hasn't found any word of them. He hasn't given me names, but I doubt I'd recognize them."

"Well, there were Firemare, Silverhorn, Zephyr, Windsteed, Stargem, Brightbird and Starsinger," Tralj listed, looking at Amvir and noting that at one of the names he went deathly pale.

"D-did you say Silverhorn?" he asked, voice quiet as he handed Tralj the rest of his clothes. Tralj stood and changed quickly, sitting down on the edge of the bed before he collapsed and noting that Amvir was looking like he'd seen a ghost.

"Yes, he was my foster uncle," Tralj replied softly, "What's wrong?"

Amvir gave him a sick grin, and instead of answering, asked another question, "Remember what I told you- about why I thought you'd hate me?"

"Torturing my relatives for training?" Tralj asked, sounding amused at first, but then he understood and he paled, "No- you didn't-"

"I did," Amvir said, painfully honest, "He was- memorable." He carefully picked the last word to avoid giving away what the man had said and done to attempt to resist, and what had been done to finally break him. All torture victims were 'memorable', but some more than others.

Tralj stared at the floor, feeling as though it had dropped out from under him. He had known, intellectually, that Amvir might have tortured relatives or friends of his, but he had never considered the harsh reality of the situation. And even if he had, before now he hadn't truly understood what being tortured meant- he'd known it was horrible, but he hadn't known how dehumanizing it was. The combined realities hit him like a punch in the gut, and he felt absolutely miserable, feeling like he had betrayed his uncle, and yet knowing he was hurting his lifebonded, which betrayed himself, and Urtho's kind and accepting nature- the contrast was causing him to get a fierce headache, compounding on the heartache he already felt.

"Can I see what happened to him?" the question fell from his mouth without him even registering his desire to know how his uncle had ended.

"No," the answer was immediate, and there was no chance of doubt in that tone. "Never."

"Why not?" Tralj snarled, hands clenching into fists, "I want to know what that _man_ forced you to do to my uncle."

"Oh Tralj," Amvir's voice was so heartbreakingly sad, that his anger stopped in its tracks, and he looked over at him, startled to see tears running down his face, "You don't understand training, do you?"

"Doesn't it mean he instructed you in what to do, and that's what you did?" he asked numbly, afraid of what it truly meant.

Amvir shook his head, "It means that I picked your uncle from a selection of victims, my father gave me questions to guide my interrogation, and I did everything I could to get him to talk, and then continuing until I destroyed him, despite the fact there was no need for it."

Tralj felt pure disgust and fury bubble up inside him, and he turned away, whispering, "I need some time to think."

"Tralj, I-" Amvir began, starting to reach for him.

"I need some time to think," he repeated, anger leeching into his voice. Amvir pulled back, and he said simply, "All right. I'll be with Urtho or in the Vault." He quickly changed clothes and walked out the door, leaving Tralj alone with his misery, only having it compounded with the pain he could feel from Amvir.

Finding Urtho and informing him Tralj was fine, but needed rest, so Amvir was going to see what else he could do to help, Amvir then found himself at loose ends. Urtho didn't need his help at the moment, they were just waiting for the Kaled'a'in to all arrive. Heading down to the camp, Amvir walked through, greeting those he recognized and helping some people with setting up their tents. "Thank you," the mother said gratefully, before scolding her children for asking him too many questions.

"It's all right, I don't mind questions," he smiled, and looked at the young children gathered around her. "All right, one question each, then I have to go and see if anyone else needs my help."

The three looked at him, and the oldest, probably ten, asked, "Where are you from?"

"Evalren, originally, thankfully I got out of there when I was eighteen," he informed her, not letting on he was only twenty, so it hadn't been all that long ago. The woman gasped at the name of Ma'ar's capitol city, but she looked more pitying than afraid. The fact he was speaking Kaled'a'in with them probably led her to believe he was one of their people, and though he probably could be counted as one, he didn't much publicize his heritage, either side.

"Where do you live now?"

"The Tower, I'm a rather powerful mage and Urtho sometimes needs my help with magecraft, as well as the fact I can sometimes lose control and he's the only one that can contain any power surges I might have," Amvir explained, the not quite lie coming to his mind easily.

"What's that?" the youngest, probably only six, pointed at the multiple scars on his arms, revealed by his rolled up sleeves. "Why do you have so many?"

"Ma'ar caught me," Amvir said quietly. The mother said hurriedly, "Now children! You've asked your questions of him! Brightfeather, go and see what happened to your father. Shiningrose, find Alir." The two eldest ran off on their missions, and the mother said to Amvir, "I am sorry about their questions, they mean no harm."

"It's quite all right, they're at the age where any question is one they have to know the answer too, I remember being like that, for a short time," Amvir murmured the last, knowing very well just how his father had responded to impertinent questions, and as he walked away from the woman, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Kaled'a'in Star-Eyed that those children were obviously encouraged to ask questions as long as they didn't border on rude.

Walking aimlessly now, musings stuck back in his past, he drew out of it when he approached the weapons trainers. There seemed to be an argument there, and he always liked to watch a good argument. Speeding up, he arrived and realized this was very much an argument that people wanted to stop but were too scared to do anything about. Sighing, he watched for a moment, and the two men, arguing over who was a cheater or not, went straight for potentially lethal blows.

The main trainer shrugged at him, he didn't want to get involved because it'd ruin these two's respect for him, but if Amvir went after them, he saw no problem with it. The main trainer was an older man, whose wisdom in tactics and strategy in one on one fighting was unsurpassed, but he would get clobbered by these two young, strong, burly fellows who were intent on creaming each other.

Amvir didn't bother taking anyone's weapon, but did snag a staff, before walking forward and smoothly stepping in. Neatly avoiding their blows, he used his staff to tap them lightly in some cases, hard in others, only infuriating them more. Enjoying his game of taunts, he got the two of them to work together to pursue him, but still trying to slaughter each other, as though he was an annoying bug that wouldn't leave them alone. Before long, their blind anger had them doing some stupid things, and because of his slight build, he was able to duck and dodge around them, making it look effortless and smooth, like a well choreographed dance.

With one smooth flick of his staff, he whacked one on the forehead and sent him crumpling, but since the other was right behind him, he tripped and all Amvir had to do was hold his staff in the right position, and the man's fall did the work for him. Spinning the staff in one hand, he stepped back, whistling cheerfully, before snapping it to attention and grounding it, then giving it to the training soldier he'd taken it from in the first place.

Getting ready to melt back into the crowd, the main trainer barked, "Amvir! Not so fast lad, you're going to spar with a few of these other fellows, and they're not going to be mad and stupid."

Amvir smiled at the old man, and submitted wordlessly with a slightly mocking bow, and the man snorted at his theatrics, then tossed him another staff, one better suited to his height. "All right boys, what team's up next?" the trainer asked as Amvir moved to the center of the training circle, spinning his staff absently, not even fully realizing what he was doing, as he slipped back into his fighting mode without going to the state of mind where he killed without thinking.

Two slim but muscled guardsmen stepped forward, one using a staff, another using a sword. They were both armored, and Amvir almost smiled at the puzzled looks on their faces. The master trainer, Elic, must have given them the standard instructions, full armor but for helms, any weapon. Since the one man seemed rather out of sorts with a staff, he had probably only chosen it for fair play. Waiting for them to make their move, he noted how they worked as a perfect team, and let that fall into his mind, which noted everything and anything he could use to his advantage, though he ignored irrelevant information such as the gathering audience.

The two were good, but he was better, and though they had worked close enough together to guard one another's backs, he was simply trained in the body's weak points better than they, and was able to pick just the right joint to stress for each person, and just the right nerve to pinch, just the right pose to take in order to force them to strain already aching limbs. By what he called 'body reading' he had a distinct advantage, and given his training as a torturer, he was good at employing pain as a distraction, though he was careful to avoid causing too much pain, since that could lead to serious injury.

In the final bout, he sent one flying to the side, stunned and then focused his attack on the other, making sure to quickly take advantage of the man's weakness with staff to knock him to the ground and establish that he was 'dead'. The man groaned, his head aching from the sharp tap Amvir had given him, and then the prince spun around to meet the swordsman, who'd been disarmed and whose weapon was on Amvir's other side, which prevented him from getting to it. Picking up the 'dead' man's dropped staff, he held it in his other hand, folding the staffs so they were resting along his forearm. He could see the man's confusion at that, double staff fighting was unknown here, and in fact it was unknown in most of Ma'ar's empire as well, the man who'd taught him that was from the last of a dying people from the very farthest northern reaches of the empire, but who was loyal only to keeping his own head, and if that meant loyalty to Ma'ar, so be it. Deciding it gave him an unfair advantage over the man, Amvir shrugged slightly and tossed the second staff aside, and waited.

Not for long, the man ended up grabbing his staff in both his own hands and trying to press it down on him. Amvir waited for him to twist it so both his arms were above his head, then he jumped up, twisting so his legs were crossed sideways, but with one on each side of the man's neck, and he firmly twisted just so- and he dropped unconscious. Taking his now freed staff and putting one end on the ground, he moved his legs and smoothly spun to land on his feet, lifting the staff into the middle guard position. Ignoring the open mouthed spectators, Amvir turned to his 'victims' and roused the one man, then helped the other off the training ring, returning the still unconscious man's sword and the practice staff.

"All right, I have a question," Elic said into the silence, voice raspy. "What was with two staffs? And why did you cast one aside?"

"Double staff fighting is rare, and I decided it was too much of an advantage. Besides, the tactics for double staff fighting are more suited to two opponents," Amvir replied, knowing that if it seemed he was favoring the people by trying to help them out, Elic would read him the riot act.

"Really?" his eyes lit up, and Amvir had to suppress a groan, he knew what was coming next. "Grab another staff, I'll find two more volunteers."

"Volunteers," Amvir snorted under his breath as he accepted the staff the still wincing guardsman handed him with a small smile and nod, which the man returned, "Sure, just like I 'volunteered' to go to that damn camp."

The guardsman snorted, hearing his comment, and they share another grin, and then Amvir stepped back into the center of the circle, ready for his next opponents, and remembering that old teacher of his, from so far away.

Fatigued and tired, Amvir trudged down the hallway after taking a bath. Brushing his still damp hair out of his eyes, his bare feet slid across the stone floor. Nodding at a _hertasi_ who walked by, Amvir put his hand on the door to his room and shut his eyes, leaning his forehead against the wood. He could still sense Tralj's frustration and disgust, and it hurt him, to know he was the subject of those feelings. But he couldn't blame him, he had known this would happen eventually, but so soon after he had nearly lost Tralj, it was one of the worst timed revelations. Biting his lip, he waited carefully until he was certain Tralj was asleep, and opened the door gently.

Slipping into the room and shutting the door, the light of the moon shining through the window, he could see Tralj's outline on the far side of the bed, his back to him. Sighing softly, he slid into bed as well, and shut his eyes firmly, trying to ignore his hurt, and before he knew it, he was asleep, exhaustion serving its purpose.

Waking up slowly, he noticed that it was still dark, and he inhaled deeply. Eyes flying open, he realized he was against Tralj's chest, his hands tangled in his beloved's shirt or resting on his hip. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. With Tralj annoyed with him, this probably wasn't the best place to be when he woke up. Starting to pull back, he froze, Tralj's arms wrapped around him so that any movement would wake him up. "Was wondering when you'd notice," Tralj said softly, causing Amvir to jump slightly.

"Right- er- sorry," Amvir murmured, starting to pull away, only to feel Tralj's arms tighten around him.

"Don't you dare," Tralj whispered, shifting back so he could look Amvir in the eyes. Amvir solved the problem for him by moving to place his head on the pillow, face only a few inches from Tralj's.

"I thought you needed time to think," Amvir said hesitantly, watching his eyes carefully.

"I did think, and-" his eyes shut briefly, and then he opened his eyes again, whispering, "I'm sorry Amvir. I reacted poorly. Just- it was bad timing. Before- I hadn't really known what torture was like, and when you said that you _chose_ the methods- it just- it-"

"Brought home the fact I'm more like my father than you realized?" Amvir suggested.

"No!" Tralj said emphatically, eyes blazing, "You are _not_ more like your father. If anything, you're _less_ like your father. He wouldn't have been honest, and if he had, he would certainly have forced me to watch what my uncle went through, and he definitely would have used that knowledge to hurt me."

"I thought I did," Amvir said, confused by his vehement response.

"No Amvir, I used the knowledge to hurt you, I shouldn't have reacted the way I did," Tralj sighed, resigning himself to the fact that Amvir would never be able to truly appreciate the differences between his father and him.

"Oh."

The silence that fell was slightly awkward, but Tralj broke it by asking, "So, while I was being an idiot, what were you doing?"

"First I was helping some people settle in, but then I broke up a fight that rose during weapons training, and, naturally, Elic decided that I needed to bout against a team. Those two were good, but I was better and I won, but unfortunately, I exhibited double staff fighting, and Elic decided that I also need to show him that, and teach people countering moves, so double staff fighting was how I spent the most of my day," Amvir explained, rolling his eyes, "And will be doing the same thing tomorrow and the day after that for the foreseeable future."

Tralj was chuckling as he made his way through his account, very much able to see Elic doing that, "I haven't seen double staff fighting in a long time. Maybe I'll come and watch tomorrow, I won't get back in shape just sitting here," he overrode Amvir's initial objection, and the prince sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn't talk Tralj out of it.

"Are you sure you're recovered enough?" Amvir asked simply, reaching up to place a brown-blonde lock of hair behind his ear.

"Ashke, I don't think anyone can fully recover, but I'm not going to collapse into a gibbering mass if that's what you mean," Tralj replied, solemnity giving way to teasing.

"I know you won't, Ma'ar didn't break your mind into millions of small pieces," Amvir replied solemnly, taking the statement in all seriousness, ignoring the mocking tone.

Tralj paled, "He could do that?" he whispered, frightened.

"I won't let him," Amvir said fiercely, "He will _never_ touch you again."

"How can you guarantee that?" Tralj asked, puzzled now, though the thought of Ma'ar being able to break his mind like glass still scared him.

"Leave that to me," Amvir whispered, cutting off any other questions Tralj might have asked by kissing him.

* * *

**A/N:** All right! three chapters in one day! Woohoo! That's not going to happen ever again, so don't get used to it! Expect at least a week before the next one, I'll try to get it without going for more than a month, but no promises!


	8. Chapter 8

The following morning Tralj woke up alone, and saw a note lying on the pillow beside him. Picking it up and reading it, he rolled his eyes, "Great, another one," he muttered, a fond smile on his lips.

_Ashke – in the workrooms. Had an idea!_

He couldn't even count the number of times he had been looking for Urtho to find similar notes scattered around. The Sorcerer was a great man and Tralj loved him like a father, but he was obsessed with his research and his tinkering, and now apparently his _ashke_ had also been corrupted.

"Well," he murmured to himself as he slowly stood, managing to change out of his nightclothes and get to the washroom to clean himself up without falling, "Maybe not corrupted, more like restored. Who knows if he would have become a researcher and Sorcerer without Ma'ar's interference?"

Going to the door that led from the adjoining office to a long flight of stairs that went down into the Vault and Amvir's private workrooms, Tralj gave the stairs what he felt was an intimidating death glare before giving into the inevitable and calling mentally, _:Amvir?:_

_:Tralj! You're awake!:_ the prince chirped back cheerfully, _:Did you see my note?:_

_:Yes, and now I'm glaring at these stairs,:_ Tralj sent back, amused at the surge of chagrin he felt from the other end of the bond.

_:Be right up!:_

True to his word, Amvir came jogging up the stairs almost immediately and smiled brilliantly at him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing him lightly. Tralj draped his own arms around him loosely and asked, "What brought that on?"

"Just happy to see you," Amvir smiled at him, eyes bright and with a hint of a hidden joke.

"Sure," Tralj drawled, smirking lightly, "Really, what are you working on now?"

"This!" Amvir pulled a chain with an amulet approximately two inches in diameter hanging from it out of his pocket. Guiding Tralj to an armchair in the study, Amvir sat down on the arm of the chair and handed him the amulet to examine. Obediantly, the guardsman looked it over, the amulet of a heavy metal and carved with runes and charged with a magic that was totally unfamiliar to him. Not that it was saying much, he was a guardsman, not a mage, for a very good reason.

"Amvir, I have no idea what I'm looking at," Tralj finally admitted, amused as he looked up at him. Amvir was grinning, pride in every word as he said, "It's a portable permanent Gate terminus, keyed to the Gate in Urtho's study and your mental signature. It holds enough energy for one Gate from wherever you are, suspended in air, to Urtho's study."

Tralj paled in shock, staring at the amulet held in his now trembling hands. The implications of such a discovery were enormous – both theoretically and practically. With this – he could escape any situation immediately, and come back to safety should he ever be compromised again, given that his ability to blend in was still so useful to Urtho. The army and guardsman's path was forever closed to him, but caravan guard, civilian? No, not yet. He still had use.

And now he had security.

Amvir took the amulet out of his hands and slid down to sit in his lap, looping the chain over Tralj's head and letting the pendant hang over his heart. "I swore to you, that I would not let Ma'ar touch you again. I keep my word," he said seriously, Tralj staring at him before pulling him into a fierce kiss, whispering in his ear, "Thank you."

Amvir ran his fingers through his hair, resting his cheek on Tralj's hair as he stared out the window at the morning vista, "You being here is thanks enough, _ashke_."

Midmorning Amvir had found Tralj a cane, and, despite the guardsman's grumbling, he relied on it heavily as they made it down the stairs in the Tower, heading for the weapons trainers so that Amvir could continue his double staff fighting demonstrations. Amvir hovered anxiously until they reached flat ground, but did not offer to help unless Tralj directly asked for it, knowing that Tralj was too stubborn to take his aid without asking for it directly.

Tamsin spotted them as they were slowly making their way through the camp, Tralj now leaning against Amvir with an arm around his shoulder. Stairs were now his mortal enemy, the guardsman had decided, and was not looking forward to the walk back. Rushing over, he went on Tralj's other side but didn't support him, that was what his cane was for. "Are you sure you've recovered enough for this?" Tamsin fretted.

Rolling his eyes, Tralj grumbled under his breath before replying more audibly, "If I stayed bedridden any longer I would have killed something," he declared. "And besides, I wasn't totally crippled!"

"You were one of the worst cases I've ever seen," Tamsin hissed, eyes blazing, "And I've seen a lot! If Amvir hadn't managed to feed energy to me through the nodes – yes Amvir I know what you were doing, then I would never have been able to actually heal you!"

"Ah – so I guess you won't be here to spar with the boys then, will you Tralj?" the weapons master asked sadly, having overheard the last comment, and Tralj grimaced before shaking his head, "No, afraid not. Just trying to be able to walk again and go up those thrice bedamned stairs will take long enough."

"No way in hell," Amvir said lowly, and the weapons master only raised an eyebrow at his protective tone. "Ready for double staff fighting?"

"Yeah," Amvir helped Tralj sit down one one of the benches lining the simple training grounds, a few of his friends and Tamsin gathering around him briefly to welcome him home and inquire as to what had happened.

While demonstrating double staff fighting Amvir was constantly aware of Tralj watching him, knowing that Tralj's instincts as a bodyguard had yet to wear off and that he was still evaluating his skills and their surroundings for threats at all times. Amvir appreciated the concern, but at the same time knew that should any sort of attack occur within the next two weeks or so, it would be him that would be dealing with it. He would probably be able to make it up the many flights of stairs in Urtho's Tower with no problem in a few days, but restoring his body to its former peak condition would take a little more time, as would establishing any form of new cover that he would need to go back to his spying.

Concluding the demonstration and the explanations that evening, Amvir found Tralj surrounded by friends of old, one of whom insisted on showing the two of them to where Amberdrake was staying. Amvir merely shrugged and helped Tralj to his feet when he expressed interest in seeing his foster brother again.

Following the directions given to them, they soon found themselves amongst the healing district. Despite some people's scorn towards the kestra-chern, Amvir knew they were among the most essential of people – mind healers without the necessary healing gift, and a lot more besides. Amberdrake was also apparently mildly talented in healing itself, which made him all the more a boon to the refugee encampment. And, though he knew his uncle didn't want to admit it, he could already see that if anything happened to the king, Urtho would become the figurehead and leader of the war effort.

Knocking on the post of the tent, Amberdrake opened the tent flap and blinked at them for a few moments before dawning recognition came over his face, "Tralj?" he asked quietly.

The sandy brown haired man grinned at him and said, "Hey Drake."

Amberdrake grinned and pulled them both inside to the inner sanctum of his tent set up, where his own quarters were. "How are you? What happened? Where did you go? How long have you been here? What's your name? I'm Amberdrake!" the man babbled, rushing around and making tea before he was slapped away by a hertasi who quickly took over for him.

"I'm Amvir," he replied, highly amused by the kestra'chern's – there was no other word for it – bounciness.

"And I'm currently recovering from severe injuries, only been here a few days, went to work undercover in the Guard, I think that's everything you asked," Tralj mused, leaning back against Amvir tiredly as they settled on the ground.

"What happened?" Amberdrake asked worriedly, "Are you going to be all right? Is he going to be all right? He never answers questions about his health accurately," he explained as he redirected his question to Amvir.

"Looks like he has your number, _ashke_," Amvir chuckled, Tralj grumbling under his breath, "He's going to be able to recover fully, thank Kal'enel. It was a near thing. It will take a while though."

Amberdrake blinked at them both in shock before he tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes, suddenly smiling and saying, "I see. I'm happy for you."

Amvir was staring at him strangely before Tralj chuckled, saying, "He's an Empath Amvir."

"Oh!" he grinned at the kestra'chern sheepishly, "Sorry. Threw me off for a bit there."

Amberdrake returned the grin when Tralj asked, "So Drake – what happened?"

Getting a sad look on his face, the kestra'chern started to explain what had happened to their family.

Weeks passed and Tralj slowly regained his strength, the pair of them frequently visiting Amberdrake now, Tralj relieved to have not lost the entirety of his adopted family. Neither ever told Drake that they knew the fate of one of his uncles – if he could still hold onto his hope for some of his family, why even crush a small bit of it?

Finally the day came when Amvir and Tralj were able to spar without holding back and without worry of Tralj suddenly collapsing from a random spasm. Though they both were relieved that there was no extensive permanent physical damage from the torture session, they also knew that Tralj's complete recovery meant that he would soon be sent back into the lions mouth under a new name and identity to keep Urtho informed, yet again.

Amvir, though worried, didn't try to dissuade him from going when Tralj finally announced that he would be leaving through a Gate the next day, merely asking him to never remove his portable Gate amulet and to be careful. He could read the fear in Tralj's eyes easily enough and felt no need to make it worse. Tralj felt that this was his duty, to repay Urtho's early kindness for him, and crippling his skills with fear would serve no cause other than detriment.

Nevertheless, no one felt any need to inquire as to his whereabouts for the days immediately following Tralj's departure. They were sure it involved scorched earth and a few deaths for Ma'ar loyalists at the least, and knew that their curiousity would only get them nightmares if they asked.

In that case, they were wrong. Amvir had decided that it was high time he take his mage training to the next level and had formed a dimensional portal to cross into one of the ether planes to work on his own creation, a creature that despite even Urtho's fantastical creations was regarded as a myth.

A dragon.

Collapsing onto his bed with an exhausted yet pleased sigh, Amvir let his eyes slip shut as he felt a small, warm weight settle on his chest. "Father?" the scaled, graceful creature asked in a musical, trilling voice, "Are you all right?"

"I am fine Zantha, just exhausted. You?" he asked warmly, scratching his creation behind her small horns, the small dragoness leaning into it with a pleased his.

"I am fine, Father. But may I go and learn about the surrounding area and hunt? You have described it so well and imprinted it in my memory, but I want to see it for myself!" the black dragon's excitement readily apparent.

Flapping a hand tiredly, the window opened and Amvir yawned, "Enjoy yourself Zantha, but please, be careful. I'm not entirely sure how anyone would react to you."

"I might be gone a while, I need to test my limits. Don't worry about me, okay Father?" Zantha said worriedly, and Amvir simply smiled, "Two weeks, then I'll start worrying. Okay?"

"Sounds wonderful!" she chirped, shooting out the window with a joyous trill, Amvir letting his eyes slip shut as he reconnected to the node energy that was coalescing around the tower constantly. There were now two Master Sorcerer's in Urtho's Tower, and he couldn't wait to tell Tralj.


	9. Chapter 9

The opportunity to see Tralj again came sooner than he had hoped, but for reasons he found wanting.

Urtho swore as he saw the enemy troops flood the countryside, swarming towards the camps of civilians. Tralj was on a mission to Ma'ar's heartland and Kiyamvir was standing behind his uncle, watching the destruction. They both heard the terrified wail of the civilians unable to be evacuated.

Kiyamvir heard that and something within him snapped, and he said to his uncle, "Call off the gryphon attack squadrons."

"What?" his uncle asked him, appalled that his nephew would leave those people without any protection.

He turned to look at his uncle and the man shivered, there was a lack of sanity in his dead eyes and face that was unnerving. "Do it uncle," he said flatly. His uncle reluctantly did as his nephew had said, wondering what he was up too.

As soon as he received word that it was all clear, Kiyamvir smiled slightly, but the smile was so ruthless and cold that Urtho found no comfort in it. The young man stepped to the edge of the balcony and clenched his hands into fists, accessing energy reserves. There was a tense moment of absolute silence, nature realizing it was about to be interfered with in a manner that no mortal should be capable of.

Suddenly, sheer, explosive rage burst from the still figure, setting the countryside ablaze with his fury. Ma'ar's soldiers died, crisped, craters appearing where their mages had been, miraculously, all Kaled'a'in were never touched.

The same could not be said for those of Ma'ar's. All those on his side, even spies pretending to be on Urtho's side, burst into flame, fire coming from the sky with silent and deadly fury.

The flames, of any color and unnatural strength and height, wailed with screams of those burning, and everyone made the sign against evil, all but Kiyamvir, who was focused only on the hell he had brought to earth, eyes and face blazing with fierce joy as those who opposed him died in flaming glory.

Thousand of leagues away, Tralj felt the explosion of rage and knew he was needed, going through the amulet Amvir had made him to summon a Gate, and Tralj was in his palace by the time Kiyamvir had started to bring the flames under control. By the time he'd gotten to his beloved, the fires were gone, nothing left on the land but for scorched dirt, and he had collapsed against the railing, almost ready to fall over, face ghostly and almost transparent. No one was willing to go near him but for Tralj, who walked briskly over to him and pulled him back from the railing, letting him lean against him as he guided his friend from the area back to their rooms for him to recover. Everyone kept their distance, seeing first hand the destruction he was capable of had unnerved many of those there, and made them fully aware of how dangerous he was.

He woke up slowly, aware of his exhaustion and Tralj's proximity, so he knew he was safe. Foolish requirement for safety, but it worked for him. He opened his eyes and looked over to see his friend sitting in a chair, watching the door, oddly wary.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. "All I remember-" here his gaze went blank, "-that scream- I snapped, didn't I?"

"Yes, I felt it, and I stopped live operations. You need me more here," Tralj said it matter-of-factly, and Amvir jerked upright, eyes flashing, "I am NOT going to snap under a small bit of pressure-"

"I'm not saying you will. I'm saying if you do something like that again, you'll need my help recovering," he replied calmly.

The fight left his friend and beloved, and Tralj grew alarmed as he saw the weariness in every line of his hunched over form. Standing and going next to him, he held his friend against his chest and said, "What's wrong?"

"They're afraid of me," he said softly, eyes haunted and painful. "I never wanted to be feared."

"You have power, you have a seed of rage madness, I would be afraid if I didn't know you so well," Tralj replied gently, tilting his friend's face so he could meet his eyes.

He stared deep into those eyes, making sure for himself that the temporary rage-madness that had overtaken his friend wasn't still there, and was reassured by what he found.

"Reassured?" Amvir asked bitterly, then he grimaced, "Sorry, unjustified, I'd be worried too in your place."

"Also, this allows me to reassure those who will probably swarm me as soon as I leave," he breathed in his friend's ear.

"Which won't be for some time yet," he murmured in reply, reaching up to kiss his friend and lover gently, who returned it and pulled his beloved down next to him, hands exploring the scars on his back.

"We're relocating," Urtho told him, "And all the Kaled'a'in are assembling there with us. Before a few clans stayed away, but not any more. They realize, after this attack, that protection in numbers is they're safeguard."

"The crazy mage that burned everything related to Ma'ar in a ten mile radius just being a bonus?" Kiyamvir asked idly from his seat, where he was flipping through a book he had borrowed from Urtho's library.

"Actually, no one but my generals know that it was you. And there is another consideration, the king, something is wrong with him, we need to go and find out what's going on. His entire court is affected. They're all living in their own nightmare."

"Oh, that's easy, it's a dyrstaf," Tralj and Kiyamvir said at once.

"A what?" Urtho asked, building a Gate to the palace. His generals could deal with assembling everyone at his other tower, in the center of Ka'venusho.

"A dyrstaf. So, anyway, what do they think caused it?" Kiyamvir asked, putting the book down and standing.

"The fire? Well, at first they thought it was one of my weapons, then I told them it was one of Ma'ar's weapons that had backfired," his uncle told him, "What's a dyrstaf?"

"You plant it, then you leave, and a week after you start the activation spell, it really gradually starts to project terror and fear until it's going on too long and everyone starts losing it completely. Only people with strong mental shields are protected," Tralj explained.

Kiyamvir smiled, "And I like you're explanation on the fire thing. That isn't even a lie."

"Precisely my consideration," the Sorcerer replied, smiling kindly at his nephew. "Can you two help us hunt this dyrstaf then?"

"We'll be reduced to searching the old fashioned way, seeing as he'll have shielded everything after he found out I turned. But sure, Tralj and I have both been exposed to them before."

"I have?" his lover asked, surprised.

"Of course you have, I have three wrapped in silk here, and when we went to that court my father was annoyed with, I stashed one there. That's why it was overrun in a matter of days a few months later. Everyone was so dispirited and terrified they couldn't rally a defense." Kiyamvir went to stand by his uncle, watching the Gate curiously. "Who notified you to the problem?"

"Lady Cinnabar, she's going to be meeting us there. And no, she doesn't know about you."

"If she has some silk, that would be a good thing. Silk cancels the dyrstaf's power when it's wrapped around it. Preferably blue, black amplifies it."

"Well then no wonder it didn't take very long, the entire court's in mourning," Urtho told him as he started to head through the Gate. Kiyamvir and Tralj followed him.

The Lady Cinnabar greeted Urtho with ill-disguised relief. "I brought in some of my shielded servants and helpers, they are the only ones that seem to be unaffected. Do you know what could cause this? It's been chaos."

"From what Amvir tells me, it is a dyrstaf, and if the court hadn't been in mourning, it might have had less of an affect. Black silk amplifies it."

"Oh dear, I'll send out the order to wear different colors," she said, eyes widening. "Is there anything that reflects it?"

"Any other silk, of any color, just not black," Kiyamvir said quietly.

She looked at him, and asked, "You are Amvir?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. She turned to Tralj, and her mouth dropped open, "Tralj? Is that you?"

"Hello Jesel," he replied with a grin, and she said, "I thought you were spying on Ma'ar?"

"I was, but I got found out, Amvir managed to get me out of imprisonment," Tralj replied, giving her a quick hug, which she returned.

Turning back to Amvir, she smiled and said, "Then I owe you thanks. Tralj was like an older brother to me back when we'd first met."

"Many people owe him thanks," Urtho said, "Now, this dyrstaf, we'll be reduced to just looking for it, Amvir, will it be obvious what it is? Or will it look like rubble?"

"Fa- I mean, mages, they usually like them to look pretty. Certain wood and carvings and stones can amplify the power, or make it more gradual, that kind of thing."

"What stones amplify it?"

"Marble, and since most palaces and such have marble in it, it is devastating. Jade and sapphires block its power, or at least lessen it. Most of the others don't really have an affect, or if they do it's negative," Amvir said, peering out the door. "Are they all locked in their rooms? Or are some of them going ballistic all the time?"

"Only a few of those. My servants and helpers are looking for them, locking them up, we don't know how else to do it."

"Is it shielded or will this be easy?" Tralj asked the young mage under his breath. Kiyamvir shrugged and sent his magic through the entire building, every nook and cranny and passage.

"Interesting," he said absently. "There are hidden passages here. Maybe we should check those first. The planter wouldn't want someone to stumble on them accidentally."

"They can't be there. No one but the king and a few trusted friends no where they are and what their entryways are. Or how to get in for that matter," Lady Cinnabar said confidently.

"You go into the great hall, and then the servants stair that is hidden behind that statue of the first king of the dynasty, then you go twenty seven steps up and turn to your left. The third brick down from the top and then four bricks left, tap on that three times quickly, then press in on it after thirteen seconds. Am I right?" Amvir replied icily. "Any one of Ma'ar's most dimwitted agents could have figured that particular one out. If you'd like quick access to the king's private rooms without arousing suspicion then I can give you another."

Her mouth dropped open, and she said, "Okay, well, maybe we should search them. I'll guide you to them, would that be easier than you using whatever method you got to get that information?"

"Yes, it would," Kiyamvir drew his magic back into himself, and then he turned back to his three companions. "Lead the way."

She nodded ironically and walked out of the room, talking to one of her helpers that she spotted, relaying the new information involving the black silk and the regular silk. As well as jade and sapphire jewelry.

Amvir looked at the steps in front of him, and convinced himself that despite appearances, he really wanted to get up there. No matter how tired he was. Somehow, he got up the last flight of stairs, and turned down the corridor at the top. More hallucinations were coming. More delusions. The dyrstaf was gaining strength. He couldn't let his guard down. Taking a deep breath, he drew more energy and strength from the nearest node, then kept walking.

He heard a whimper, or he would have missed her. It was a young girl, around eleven, and she was curled in a ball, weeping. Kiyamvir walked over to her, touching her gently on the arm. She screamed and thrashed away from him, obviously believing him to be part of her nightmare. He expanded his shields to include her, and suddenly she stopped wailing, and she sat up. She looked at him, relief evident in her eyes, and she burst into tears, throwing her arms around him. This caught him completely off guard. He'd thought she'd- do something besides hug him and weep anyway!

"Please, please don't cry," he said humbly, taking her arms from around his neck. "I'm here to look for the dyrstaf. My name is Amvir. Who are you?"

"Mel. I'm a maid," she sniffed, kneeling. He stood and helped her to her feet. "Well Mel, the dyrstaf is somewhere near here. I plan to find it. It is what has caused all this terror and pain for you. If you don't want to stay with me- it will get worse. You won't be forced into fear, but you will see and hear things." The girl clung to his arm, already frightened again.

He sighed, "All right, you can come. But don't react to what you hear or see. Don't react, no matter how horrid, all right? I am the only thing that is real from here on out, until I tell you the dyrstaf is under control. Then I'll need you to find Lady Cinnabar and tell her where I am. I will- not be in any shape to go to her."

Mel nodded vigorously, eyes shut tight as she clung to his arm. He walked down the hall and sensed the strongest point of fear and terror past one particular door. He opened it, and saw the dyrstaf. Mel's grip tightened as soon as the door shut, she must have heard something. But that was her only reaction. Amvir saw many things. Dead, tortured, he heard screams, wails, all in the voices of those he loved, but he ignored them, walking along until he gripped the dyrstaf, strengthening the shields around himself and the dyrstaf, and giving Mel her own set of shields. "Mel, go, now! Please," he gasped the last, staggering into the wall, sinking to the floor, wedged in a corner so he'd remain upright. She nodded and took a deep breath, then ran, calling for Lady Cinnabar.

Amvir smiled, and dropped the shield that protected him from the dyrstaf. He had to conserve his strength. He still had to find the others, and destroy them after all.

Whimpering, his eyes glazed over, and his head went limp, the only thing that didn't change was the firm grip on the dyrstaf. He could no longer see the world, only the nightmare he was stuck in.

Mel ran down the corridors, calling for the Lady Cinnabar. She saw the lady at long last, and cried, "Lady Cinnabar!" She flung herself into the woman's open arms. The noblewoman erected her own shields around the girl, and she sensed the shields that had protected the girl from the terror recede. She recognized the signature though, and asked the girl, "Amvir sent you?"

"Yes, he found the dyrstaf thing. He says he needs help," she told her, voice muffled. Tralj swore, and grabbed one of the blue silk wraps Cinnabar had decided they'd use on the dyrstafs. He sprinted up the way Mel had come, knowing where to go, just following the bond, which sent shocks of pure terror at him.

He ran through the door and saw Amvir wedged in a corner, eyes empty of anything but pain, tears running down his face. The shields let him in easily, and he wrapped the dyrstaf in the silk briskly.

Immediately Amvir's eyes cleared and when he saw Tralj's face, he gave a cry of relief and flung his arms around his neck, shoulders shaking as he wept into his shoulder. Tralj didn't ask, he merely held him close and waited for him to cry himself out.

When he had, Amvir didn't pull away, and Tralj sat next to him. "There are more of the dyrstafs to find still," he reminded the younger man. "I know," Amvir said, voice muffled, "I'm not looking forward to it." He pulled away. "Sorry-just- it was awful."

"Well you shouldn't have let your personal shields down, why did you do that?" Tralj asked him, shaking his head as they stood. Amvir picked up the dyrstaf, safely wrapped in silk, as he explained, "I couldn't shield myself, the dyrstaf, and the girl. Did she make it?"

"Yes, and Cinnabar has her under shielding now, so you can rest easy. We still have the rest to find. If your estimate is right, there are three more."

"Now that I've found this one, I know what to look for, it'll be easier," he said it calmly, and Tralj looked at him. "I'll go with you then, so you won't need to suffer through that again."

He smiled at his beloved and said simply, "Thank you."

They reached the others, and took another silk wrapping. It wasn't blue, but it would do. They split then, but Tralj, true to his word, stayed with Amvir.

Amvir had not exaggerated. The others were found easily. Jesel found one, Urtho another, and the final one was found by Amvir. Now they had to destroy them. Unfortunately, in Tralj's mind, only Amvir knew how to destroy the damn things safely.

They hadn't even gone back to the Tower, Urtho still needed to find the king. First he erected shields around his nephew and the dyrstafs, while the young man reinforced them from the inside. He was calm about what he was doing. He was used to it at this point. He was on familiar ground, and he at least knew how he would be affected. He had drawn more strength from the node, and now he was at nearly full strength, with only himself and the dyrstafs to worry about.

While Urtho soon left from the vigil around the silent figure, who moved only to set aside one dyrstaf and work on another, Tralj remained, watching through slit eyes. When all of the dyrstafs, as one, shattered into dust, Kiyamvir collapsed inside the shield.

Urtho's shields didn't let him through until he'd managed to get hold of the man and he took them down. Tralj helped Amvir sit up, then stand, as his friend leaned against him, spent. Too tired even to draw more strength from a node or a ley line, he simply walked alongside his dear friend. When Urtho was done, he returned them all to the Tower, where they would continue transfer to his other Tower, in the heart of the rich southland, where he'd be able to help the king defend from the elder Kiyamvir, Ma'ar.

He let them through the Gate, and Amvir collapsed, face pale and taut with pain. His hands were shaking and his eyes were haunted, more haunted than usual. Tralj worriedly rested a hand on his shoulder, and murmured, "Get some rest Amvir, we'll be up for some time plotting. You may as well sleep."

The young man nodded and sank into the couch he'd stretched out on, sinking into it so that he looked thinner and more skeletal than ever. Tralj nearly wept at seeing him so weakened and grief-driven, but Urtho grabbed his arm and pulled him away, onto the balcony so they could talk without Amvir hearing them.

"His nightmares obviously consist of something worse than the run of the mill seeing your puppy die in a battle field," Urtho muttered, rage at Ma'ar the elder mounting. Tralj was slumped against the railing, hands shaking slightly.

"I'm sure they do, gods, what kind of sick bastard would do that to their own blood?" Tralj asked, burying his face in his hands.

Urtho put a hand on his shoulder and said, "At least you got him out of there in time. And, judging by his reactions whenever you were gone on a mission, many of those nightmares involved what his father would do to you."

"I don't doubt," Tralj sighed. He looked at Urtho, and asked, "Do you need me to go back?"

"No, after what happened that time we'd left you there longer than Amvir said was safe? No, I don't want to put either of you through that one again," Urtho shook his head. Tralj shuddered, recalling the horrors he had lived through when Ma'ar had decided that he was too good a target to leave un-tortured.

"Thanks for that. How bad was he? I was unconscious for a lot of it," Tralj replied, asking questions he'd wanted answers too for some time, but had never found the time to ask them.

"Like he is now. But he wouldn't leave your side. May the Star-Eyed visit a thousand curses upon Ma'ar! What he did to both of you is sickening, not to mention what he's done to hundreds of others!" Urtho shouted, shaking his fist towards the north.

"I agree," a weak voice said from the doorway. They turned and saw Kiyamvir swaying where he stood. "I'm sorry," he said contritely, "But every time I shut my eyes-" his eyes glazed over and his face shut down into a bland expression, "I would see-" he choked, and was unable to speak, tears starting to run down his face.

"Amvir, it's all right," Tralj whispered, standing and pulling him against him, Urtho's expression worried. "Urtho and I are fine, and so are all the other people in this camp at the moment. All right? Are you going to be all right?"

"Just hold me, please? I don't want to let anything happen," he whimpered, arms around Tralj tightening.

"Of course," he murmured, leaning back against the railing, Amvir's grip remaining firm. Urtho reached over and touched Amvir's hand lightly, and his reaction was that of a startled deer, he jumped back, panic in his expression, when Tralj said hastily, "It was Urtho Amvir, it's okay."

"Sorry uncle," Amvir whispered, ashamed at what he'd done. Urtho hugged him quickly, and said, "No apologies necessary." Amvir transferred back to leaning against Tralj, his friend's arms around him.

They stayed in Urtho's study for some time further, Amvir unable to allow Tralj out of his sight for more than a few moments. Whenever Tralj started to get annoyed, he would see the expression on Amvir's face, and recall what had been done to him, and the annoyance would evaporate, replaced by worry. He couldn't shut his eyes without seeing something that drove him to further panic, so he no longer even tried, and both Urtho and Tralj didn't bother trying to convince him to try again.

After they'd finished up organizing some details, Tralj helped Amvir to his feet and took him back to their rooms. Lying on their bed a while later, Amvir was still unable to sleep. Pulling him into his arms, Tralj let him rest his head on his chest as he gently ran his fingers through Amvir's hair. "Amvir, would it help if you shared with me what you see?" Tralj whispered.

Amvir shivered all over, and murmured back, "I'd rather not."

"Why? What's the worst that it could be?" he asked, surprised. "Is it something like what I've been through with Ma'ar already?"

"No- it's worse. Much- much worse," he whimpered, and Tralj sighed, "It's the only thing I can think of that will let you sleep, ashke," he replied softly. "Just let me see part of it. Maybe that will bleed some of it off."

Hesitantly, Amvir let his lifebonded into his mind, and shut his eyes. In mere moments, the images that were presented to him horrified Tralj beyond what he had ever thought possible, and showed him the vagaries of Ma'ar's lack of humanity in worse light than he had ever known. Watching in vague fascination as he saw that the victim of many of these things was himself, he felt Amvir start to shudder in his arms. At the thought of Amvir, he watched as the victim changed, to become what _he_ would fear the most, and he saw Amvir being put through the same thing.

Shaking off the terror that gripped him, he snapped the connection and went back to his own mind. "Goddess- that- that was awful," he choked, holding Amvir all the tighter.

"Do you see now why I hated sending you back without back up?" Amvir whispered. "Do you see? Do you understand?"

"I saw, I understand your reasoning, but I sure as hell don't understand your father's," Tralj whispered in return. "Did it at least help a bit?"

"A bit- it was odd, halfway through, I saw the victim shift to me, I think the horrors were responding to you, rather than me," Tralj nodded at that assumption, and murmured, "That's what I think too. Try to sleep love, you need- heck, _we_ need, our rest."

Amvir nodded, and shut his eyes. Though it took some time, he was eventually able to enter an uneasy slumber. Tralj also found that he was able to sleep, though it wasn't a peaceful one, often interrupted by images of Amvir being tortured.

The next morning, Amvir woke up first, but didn't move. It was still dark outside, so he was unaware of the time until he saw the eastern horizon start to lighten. Tralj shifted slightly, but didn't wake. Amvir took that with relief, and slowly stood up. He got dressed, and Tralj remained asleep.

He opened a door in the wall that revealed a set of stairs going steeply downward. He left the door slightly open, so Tralj would be able to easily figure out where he had gone, and then went down the steps. Stepping into his own workroom with something like relief, he lit all the mage lamps, and went to one corner. He dug through the clutter, and came up with three silk wrapped bundles. Sharing his own nightmares last night, and seeing how they shifted even without the presence of a dyrstaf, had given him an idea.

Without amplifiers, a dyrstaf's terrifying influence couldn't get very far, maybe half a mile radius. But mental broadcasters- _they_ could get further. Much further. And if he was able to set up a chain reaction, then each terror would shift in the minds of the person to reflect their own terror, even outside the circle of the dyrstaf's influence. All he'd have to do would be to figure out how to make that chain reaction part of a dyrstaf's circle, implement it, and then destroy the dyrstaf after use to make sure Ma'ar couldn't take his idea.

Drawing on the node that the Tower was situated atop of, he replenished his reserves and carefully structured layered shields, around the room, around himself, and around the dyrstaf. Taking one, wrapped in blue silk, he unwrapped it and reluctantly admired its appearance. The ebony wood, a good amplifier in itself, and the ruby gems inlaid in it, carved into artistic whorls and other amplifying shapes, made this weapon of terror a work of art. Amvir sighed, and ran his hand along it. It was regrettable that a thing of such evil and dark influences had to look so beautiful.

Using an incantation he'd been taught nearly straight out of infancy, the spellwork wrought upon the staff appeared above it, floating in the air as a complex web of glowing lines and diagrams. "Hmmm…" he murmured, examining the web carefully. He didn't want to diminish the terror, but neither did he want to diminish the range. He wanted as many people directly affected as possible.

Musing on what he actually wanted to accomplish, Amvir determined exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted maximum range and potency, and he wanted broadcasters to broadcast the dyrstaf effect, not their own nightmares. He basically wanted to change human beings that could broadcast thoughts and illusions into dyrstaf's by themselves, by means of this dyrstaf. Finding what it was he wanted to change in the enchantment web, he did that, and then added on his own additions to make the desired affects more- well, effective! After he was done, he recorded what he had done in a leather-bound book that he used to record all new spellwork or interrogation techniques that he developed. Leaving a line blank for him to later put successful or unsuccessful, he wrapped they now ten times more potent dyrstaf in its silk wrapping, and then shielded it extensively.

Tralj was watching him from the doorway, unable to get through the shields. "It's noon already Amvir. I just came down to see if you were approaching the end of whatever you were doing. Is that a dyrstaf?" he looked at the narrow bundle suspiciously. He didn't want to have his beloved go through that again.

Struggling to hide his relief at seeing Tralj safe and well, though he was able to allow Tralj out of his sight, he was still over worried because of the extensive dyrstaf exposure yesterday, Amvir said, "Yes, it is, but don't worry it's secure. And ten times more potent. I intend to leave a gift for the men in my father's army."

Tralj's eyes lit up. "Sounds good to me! But- do you need to bring that up right now? Are you sure it doesn't affect the unshielded?"

"No, not at all, but I do need to see the effects. No one above is slaving away to terror, correct?"

"Correct, let's get this thing to Urtho," Tralj went up the stairs behind him, still concerned over Amvir's gaunt and haunted appearance.

They both walked into Urtho's war room, where the generals were consulting another map. They seemed to be simultaneously reporting on the effectiveness of the summons for the Kaled'a'in. "We will be moving there in a few days at the most," a competent general concluded, and Urtho nodded. He looked up and seemed rather surprised to see the two of them standing there.

"Amvir, Tralj, what are you two doing- is that a _dyrstaf_?" Urtho asked, in complete shock.

"Yes, ten times more potent, and able to turn any projecting mindspeakers in range into amplifiers of its range," Amvir explained, walking forward to set the innocuous silk wrapped bundle on the table. "In order to avoid affecting our people, extensive shields would need to be set up, but I can do that. And anyone with strong shields won't be badly affected."

"What about civilians?" Urtho asked softly, "We cannot destroy people just because they're on the wrong side of the border."

Amvir gave his uncle a sardonic look, "If I had time, I could form enough shields to prevent all civilians from being affected, and only Ma'ar's troops. But that would take seventeen years. We don't have that kind of time."

"Can you shut it down from a distance?" a general Amvir didn't recognize asked. He hadn't been there for the firestorm. Those four generals were standing as far away from Amvir as they could get.

Amvir's brow furrowed, and he murmured some terms, a golden web appearing before him. Examining it as though it meant something to him, though everyone else was confused, but for Urtho, who recognized a rare summoning of a spell web. Raising his eyebrows, he hadn't thought his nephew had been that thoroughly trained, Urtho remained silent as Amvir altered the web slightly, then banished it, and nodded to the general, "Yes, I can. And I keyed it to Urtho as well," he turned to his uncle with a small smile on his face, "If you don't mind?"

"Definitely not," Urtho replied calmly, an equally small smile on his own face. "So- civilians?"

"Will be affected," Amvir said breezily, "There is no way around that. What can be done to prevent that is short bursts of dyrstaf power. It will then only affect those near us, and not as severely. Nightmares last for much longer though, so demoralizing power can easily be the same as if there were prolonged exposure, though it might take a few more bursts than it would otherwise."

Urtho grimaced, but nodded reluctantly, understanding what this was intended for and accepting the silk wrapped weapon from his nephew. "We can use this for our transfer, there was worry of an ambush on the way there, we can clear out supporters from the region surrounding the passes to flush out any hidden groups," a general recommended, and Urtho sighed, setting the weapon on the table. "I will let Amvir deal with activating it, I am unfamiliar with the mechanism behind the device. Please organize it with him."

Amvir nodded at the others and started scheduling patrols and gryphon basket runs with mage reinforcements to keep the dyrstaf effects from bleeding back into their people. Tralj stood beside him and gave his opinion when asked, but was content to make sure that Amvir wasn't going to have a relapse anytime soon. It seemed as long as he was aware of Tralj's presence (which he was checking for constantly, if subtly) then the nightmares were kept at bay.

* * *

**A/N: **Good old college... sucking away at my life like a life-sucking leech. Look at that sentence, my vocabulary has even decayed to pathetic levels. Curse those classes. Enjoy the chapter! Now here's a question for you, my beloved readers:

I have a fair number of disconnected shots from various points in the Valdemar saga, would you prefer that I try and fill in the gaps and connect everything (or at least not skip around chronologically) when I post, or post the series I have and put in the chapter what trilogy or portion of the saga they're a part of (for example, Oathbreakers: Part I, so on and so forth). Please leave your vote in a review, I have most of the Black Gryphon planned out at least, and some White Gryphon and Silver Gryphon, so that trilogy is going first, so you have some time.


	10. Chapter 10

In one of the few quiet moments of the next week, Kiyamvir found Tralj reclining on a hill, under a tree at the edge of the forest, which turned suddenly into grassland.

His eyes were closed, and he didn't move until after Kiyamvir had sat down next to him. "How are you holding up?" he asked his friend softly. The days immediately after the dyrstafs, he had been pale as death, with his face pinched and his eyes more haunted than usual. His eyes were always haunted, they always had been that way, at least as long as Tralj had known him.

He smiled bitterly, "Much better. Now I know what my father is doing. But- there is no chance. Ever, that I will tell someone."

Tralj stayed quiet for a while, then spoke, "I think you should tell someone. Besides me of course, I already know. And Urtho. Maybe- I don't really know. But it's not right, to keep it in."

Kiyamvir looked down at his face, and saw his brow was wrinkled. He lay back, propping himself up on his elbow and touched Tralj's forehead. "What's wrong? You're worried."

His friend smiled slightly, eyes opening to meet Amvir's. "You always did know, didn't you?"

His eyes closed again and he sighed. "The Kaled'a'in. Some of them know me. They knew my family. They know about you. And someone talked about your firestorm."

Kiyamvir bit his lip. He hadn't wanted anyone else to find out about that. The generals were scared of him enough as it was. Urtho- well, he had been, but now that he knew the madness that had overtaken him was gone, he was fine. "Are they scared?"

"No, most of them are fine with it, but one of the shamans was angry, and said that you had too much power. He was saying you were playing god," Tralj sighed again, plainly unhappy.

"Playing god?" Amvir yelled, sitting bolt upright, fury igniting. "He thinks I enjoy people being terrified of me- that I enjoyed it? I was insane!"

Tralj reached over and took one of Amvir's hands, clenched into fists, and said softly, "I know that. They hardly know you. You are busy, helping Urtho, teaching Cinnabar about the dyrstafs, organizing the army so Urtho doesn't have to be absorbed in minutiae. They do not know you as I do. I think if they did- if they knew you- they wouldn't make those accusations. But-" he pulled Amvir down next to him, "The old fool claimed he was going to take it before the Kaled'a'in Lady, and knowing that stubborn old bat, he'd do it."

"But wouldn't She know I was crazy at the time? It's not like I was having the time of my life while I was burning all those people. Or maybe I was. I don't really remember."

"If you were, it was because you were mad at the time. You are too good a person to rejoice in the slaughter of thousands," Tralj told him, kissing his forehead.

"I'd like to believe that- but I am too much my father's son. The madness also- it comes on still. In small bits, but I can take joy in others pain," Amvir whispered.

"You are a good person. It is merely your life that has warped you into someone who can and will enjoy others pain on occasion," Tralj retorted firmly.

The two sat in silence for some time, simply enjoying the moment of peace. There was a disturbance in the air and the two of them shot to their feet, Tralj drawing his sword and Amvir readying an offensive spell.

The beautiful woman, dressed in all black, clearly Kaled'a'in, who had appeared in front of them, laughed. *Hello children,* She said to them, eyes showing them who she was, they were eye shaped windows to a star strewn sky. Both of them dropped to their knees, and She shook her head, *Relax children. Sit down, I merely need to speak with you.*

The two of them sat next to each other tailor style, and She folded her legs, sitting in front of them, eyes level with theirs. *I have been asked to deal with the so called blasphemy you have shown me,* She directed that at Kiyamvir, who was about to make an angry retort before he fell silent.

*I know you have done nothing wrong, and I have told those who asked it of me that you are in no way disrespectful to me. But I have a proposition for you. Both of you.* She turned to look at Tralj, who said softly, "What could the two of us do for you?"

*You two both have unique talents, I could use you both as my servants. You would not work together though. At least not frequently. You probably will not see each other for up to a millennia. Maybe more.*

Kiyamvir asked, "When would this service start?"

She looked at him now, *As soon as the last person to share so much as a second of lifetime with Urtho's lifetime dies. You two would see and protect the world as it moves on. You would be my hands on this earth. I have my shamans and my Kaled'a'in, but they are not enough. I need people that will follow every order I give. I know you will argue with me, I anticipate it. But you must see that I know what I am doing. No matter how ruthless it is at the time, it will help the world.*

"I have one question. Why us, and why now?" Tralj asked his Goddess.

*You two have talents I need. You two are both strong. And stable. And ruthless. You must understand, after that final person dies, you will be separated until the Cataclysm comes again. It will come again, but it will be many, many centuries.*

The two linked mind-to-mind, and quickly debated the offer. It didn't take them long at all to come to their decision. Amvir looked at her and said for the both of them, "We'd be honored to accept."

Joyous laughter rang in them, and She extended her hands over them and said, *From this point on, you are under my protection, and will not age, or die. You are my soldiers. The first of many. The highest of many. Now, I will not call on you until that moment. Good-bye, my soldiers.* Then She was gone.

Kiyamvir slumped against Tralj, and neither of them said anything, just sitting in peaceful silence until Urtho called them back to the Tower.

* * *

**A/N: Pathetically short, I know. Well... next chapter we start the actual canon portion of this whole saga, with The Black Gryphon! And now I actually have to start writing stuff wholesale rather than patching together various pieces of sections I had already lying around. Even more delays. Sorry guys!**


	11. Chapter 11

It had been a few months, and as Kiyamvir had easily predicted, Urtho was the new figurehead of the opposition and had been required to take up the mantle of warlord sorcerer when the man wanted nothing more than to return to his peaceful tinkering and old lifestyle. Generals had come and gone, Urtho managing to keep Ma'ar's forces at bay for an impressive time considering his lack of military training. But still, the war dragged on.

The war had been going on near twenty-seven years now, though Urtho had only become heavily involved twenty years ago, and only had taken over as leader of their forces five months ago. That early lack of involvement had been what allowed Urtho's sister to get close enough to his enemy to fall in love and get married, though it hadn't worked out for her anyway.

"An entire generation lost to this," Amvir spat on the ground, gelding bobbing his head in agreement with his disgust. They surveyed a scorched and reeking battlefield to the west of Laisfaar – they had been reinforcements for the seigers at the Pass of Stelvi. Unfortunately their intervention was too late for the forces at Stelvi, which had been overrun only a day and a half ago. But at least they could keep them cut off from the rest of their forces.

Tralj reined his mare in so he stopped beside him, surveying the field of corpses before sighing, "I got all the information I could from them and what remains. We have the documents and any valuables as well as supplies."

"Then all that remains is disposal, you know, I think those wrysa are quite useful," Amvir smirked, throwing his head back and letting out a screeching cry that was just shy of a hawk's. From the shadows of the canyons and foothills scaled and roughly furred wolf-like beings with a fair bit of greyhound emerged, the wrysa had answered his call to feed.

After gaining a sort of mutually exclusive alliance, Amvir was able to call them to take care of any extensive battlefield, and they were responsible for disposing of all the corpses. Tralj winced as he watched a wrysa descend on one particularly scrumptious offering, skull crushed and grey matter bubbling out of his flattened head. "All right, now let's get out of here before I lose my lunch," he grumbled, turning his mare away from the slaughter, Amvir shrugging and turning his gelding after him.

"It was just ration bars – not too much of a loss," Amvir chuckled at Tralj's glare, "Oh come on Tralj, if you don't laugh about it – what else can we do?"

"I don't know if you should be on frontal assault," Tralj said, amusement clear as they headed along a narrow path leading through the mountains, "You seem to be enjoying this far too much."

"There is no such thing as enjoying this far too much," Amvir said solemnly, "It's merely a matter of targeting the appropriate individuals for this sort of enjoyment!"

The guardsman had no response for that and simply shook his head, conversation dying away so that they might pass through the sound carrying canyons without revealing their presence to Ma'ar's victory flushed troops. Amvir winced as he heard the faint scream of a gryphon in agony, but they were under strict orders to not risk themselves unnecessarily, and attacking a fortified group of his father's soldiers was most certainly not a necessary risk – as cold as it sounded, not for one gryphon.

Not only that, but the Lady had given them their marching orders for this particular war. After they had accepted her offer, Amvir had wondered if they could just use the fact they couldn't die to take suicide missions and totally destroy Ma'ar's forces – it was certainly feasible.

The answer was no, or otherwise the war would have been over by now. The Lady had explained that technically she wasn't allowed to interfere in the world so directly as she had with them, but she had made them her avatars of sorts, thereby bypassing the restrictions. However, due to Amvir's own strength, she had restrictions on how he could act. One of those was in this case – she had reassured them that they would not be kept from helping completely, but they needed to act as though they were still mortal and very much still limited in strength. Those binders she had laid on Amvir basically limited his own action by enforcing a strict barrier on how much mage work he could do in a day. It limited him to the power of his father – which wasn't much of a limiter, but it was enough of one that they couldn't simply massacre their way into bloody saviors of the war.

It really was too bad, Amvir mused as he squinted up into the sunlight, thinking he saw a shadow blurring towards Urtho's borders, the irony of being declared savior for killing thousands would have been… interesting.

Shaking off the vestiges of madness that remained from his bloody dealings a few minutes ago, Amvir's silvery eyes narrowed as he heard the war cry of makaar. "Tralj," he said simply, "I see a flight of makaar and a lone gryphon."

"What a coincidence, I do too," the spy said wryly. "Levin bolt array?"

"I was thinking of trying to get closer at least," Amvir said modestly, "Wouldn't do to miss and fry one of our friends, now would it?"

"Most certainly not. Race you?"

"Ha! You're on!"

The two riders urged their horses onward, lighthearted banter not taking away from the sense of urgency they felt at seeing one of their own threatened by the abominations that Ma'ar had created in a twisted form of imitation of the grace and beauty that were gryphons.

There was a fierce war cry that reminded them of a shrill hawk as Zantha swooped down to fly alongside them, still only three or four feet long, but a skilled hunter now that she had had time to harness her skills. "I would suggest pursuing the makaar," Amvir told her, "But I might hit you on accident."

"Don't worry father, I can dodge," the black dragon laughed, catching a breeze and soaring upwards towards the airborne chase. Amvir left his reins as loose as he dared before wrapping them securely around the pommel to avoid accidently hurting his mare's mouth, and he quickly started drawing up power, hands crackling with energy as the Levin bolts formed.

Eyes snapping up to the makaar, he raised his hands and let fire soar up to them, Zantha forcing some of the makaar into the path of the death carrying bolts even as she dodged them like liquid silver. "Beautiful," he murmured as he watched the makaar fall from the skies, screaming in agony before the impacted the ground.

"Ashke," Tralj said softly as their horses slowed, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm worriedly, "You're slipping."

Amvir's eyes lost their slightly glazed look and he snarled mentally, snapping his mind back into place. "Sorry ashke," he shivered slightly, "It's getting a little too easy to do that."

"I really think we should stop the frontal assaults for a while. Let's go see if we can help that crashed gryphon, get back to Ka'venusho, and stay there for a time. It has been a while since we've simply helped around the camp and I'm sure Urtho's slowly losing his mind back there," Tralj quirked a smile and Amvir laughed, allowing the rather weak excuse to slide as he understood Tralj's very real worry.

"That sounds fantastic, Tralj. And there's the gryphon… hmm… is that the Skandranon we've heard so many stories about?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, "Urtho is quite fond of him."

"He is indeed," Tralj chuckled, "I remember meeting him as a fledgling. He was so… fluffy and prideful, even then."

Amvir laughed at the image even as they both smoothly dismounted and approached the barely conscious gryphon. "Skandranon Rashkae, peace, we are of the Silence," Amvir said formally in the recognition phrase for front assault squads.

The gryphon relaxed slightly, and Tralj carefully examined the gryphon's injuries, and his grim look told Amvir all he needed to know. It was likely that Skandranon was a few days late to report already, and any longer getting to aid he might perish.

"It will take a time to set up an archless gate," Amvir warned, sitting down tailor style on the ground as he gathered up energy from the world around him, weaving it expertly before his eyes into the familiar archway his Uncle had spent so much time teaching him.

"Less than for blackie here to fly back himself," Tralj said calmly, "I will do the best I can to field dress his wounds. I'm sure Zantha can take care of herself."

Looking over at his lifebonded sharply – they had agreed to keep Zantha between themselves! – he noticed that Skandranon was unconscious, and Tralj raised an eyebrow at him, Amvir grinning ruefully at his doubt before returning his focus to the delicate matrix of energies before him.

It was a few hours later and night had fallen when Amvir had stabilized the free standing Gate enough for them to go through. Tralj woke Skandranon and helped the semi-conscious gryphon through to the landing fields before returning for their horses and then helping Amvir through, as most of his concentration was tied up in maintaining the gate.

As soon as they got safely to the other side, Amvir let the Gate unravel to its component energies and slumped, archless Gates were probably ten times more difficult to activate than a standard gate, at the least, and he had already spent the day massacring an army and sharpshooting makaar. It was understandable that he was tired.

Tralj carefully wound an arm around his waist, helping him go through the camp as healers swarmed the wounded Black Gryphon, though when they saw Amberdrake pull a strange looking creation out of Skandranon's crop he snagged it to take to Urtho, heading there after leaving their horses with the Kaled'a'in, who looked after them while they were within the refugee camp.

Reaching the stairs of the tower, Tralj looked down at the half-asleep Amvir and sighed, tucking the staff like weapon into his belt before scooping him up into his arms and briskly walking up the stairs, depositing the now sleeping mage in their rooms before going to deliver his report and news of Skandranon's device to the Mage of Silence.

"Tralj! You're back earlier than expected!" Urtho smiled, a heavy sadness in his eyes even as he returned his greetings.

"Amvir built a free standing Gate to get us back, we found Skandranon and he was rather badly injured," Tralj explained, "He had apparently been bringing this back. Is it the super weapon we were hearing about?"

"I'm afraid so," Urtho said grimly, accepting the offering as if it were a diseased limb. "It seems to give ordinary foot soldiers powers of intermediate mages."

Tralj paled dramatically at the idea of some of his fellow soldiers with that sort of power and shuddered, "I hope you find a way to deactivate those things en mass, and soon."

"I will probably need Amvir's help for decoding some of the excess flourishes Ma'ar has started to put into his matrices," Urtho admitted, "So, how went the frontal assault?"

"Well and smoothly, unfortunately too late to help at Stelvi, but I must ask that we stay here for a time and let up on the assault activities. Amvir is starting to lose himself a little too quickly for my liking," Tralj grimaced. "I only hope there aren't any spies found soon."

"I think we can both agree that that is a good thing to hope for," Urtho grimaced, a powerful Sorcerer he might be, but even he could not force people to talk – to tell the truth, yes, but not to speak when it was completely against their will. Amvir had ways of at least loosening others tongues that, while undesirable and distasteful in the extreme, got the job done.

Of course, those methods slid him further to his father's side of the sanity scale than Tralj felt comfortable with, much less when he was already slipping due to excessive massacres in rapid succession, so keeping him from hearing about a spy that was captured was a good idea for another few weeks. They couldn't risk their cover being blown here – it would not end neatly or without fatalities in all likelihood.

"So, Tralj, what are your thoughts on the reports that Ma'ar is coming to the front himself?" Urtho let the matter drop, as it was now settled and they had more to worry about.

"Well, it fits with his pattern, he will at the least move up to the kings former palace rather than stay in his own far to the North, it just is more sensible now that the lines of communication are so long, with magecraft it is fairly easy to stay in contact, but still, the shorter the lines, the less likelihood of miscommunication," Tralj began, leaning over the map and using his dagger to point out landmarks. "The only thing I can see that would change that is if –"

The discussion would continue late into the night, neither wishing to acknowledge the fact that with the loss of Stelvi, it was unlikely another retreat of their headquarters would not be in order sometime soon.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, sorry for the delay. No one answered my poll (cough, hint, cough) so I'll just go for slow and chronological... unless you start telling me your thoughts! (shameless hint)!**

**Anyway, I have another five pages, but I need to make sure they're consistent, so here's five pages worth for now - sort of a filler, but gives a little background on Amvir's mental state and why they haven't just killed everything in their way yet, with the Star Eyed behind them. Let me know if something isn't clear!**

**Oh, and does anyone know how to put in breaks without the horizontal ruler? It's driving me insane!**


	12. Chapter 12

Amvir looked at Amberdrake. "Have you seen Urtho? He left without eating."

"He's probably gone to visit Skan," he mumbled, raking his hair out of his face. He was exhausted from a day helping the healers and intensive grief counseling as knowledge of the fate of Stelvi Pass had been announced a few short days ago.

"Thanks Drake, and-" Amvir caught Drake when he stumbled and continued, "Okay, I'll help you back to your tent and then I'll go find Urtho."

They walked back to Drake's tent, and Gesten met them. "Here, help me get him inside," he ordered the young man. Amvir didn't mind, and helped his friend get inside his tent.

"Will you be all right Drake?" Amvir asked him after he was sitting down, Gesten grabbing a cup of steaming hot tea and handing one to Drake, then handing one to Amvir. He took the hint and sat down across from his friend, making sure to check his shields. Around such a strong empath, he had to be doubly careful he didn't drop his guard. Especially since Amberdrake's shields were probably weaker than normal.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. My Empathy, its going nuts. And I'm burnt out, but I'll be all right," he replied, words slightly slurred as he sipped at the tea.

Amvir grimaced and downed his in one gulp. The warmth spread throughout him and woke him up again. He tasted various rejuvenating herbs in it, and gave Gesten a gratifying glance. "I needed that, thank you Gesten."

"It is no problem. Will you watch him for a while? I need to go help with Black Boy," the hertasi asked, but he didn't wait for an answer, taking Amvir's assent for granted. "I'll tell Urtho you're looking for him!"

"Thanks again Gesten!" the young former prince called back, turning back to his friend, who had suffered nearly as much as he had at his father's hands.

"You all right Drake?" he asked worriedly, reaching across to grip his friend's hand.

"I'm so relieved, that Skan made it back. So relieved. He's part of my new family. The only one I have left now," Drake's face saddened. Amvir grimaced. It was only after a very long time of being friends Drake had told him about his past, and even then he had been drunk. It wasn't the worst Amvir had heard, but it certainly was among their number.

He was about to continue when they heard the wail of a woman whose heart had broken rend the camp. Hush fell for a few moments, and everyone who heard her cry gave a quick prayer for the peaceful rest of whoever it was who had just died.

Amvir cursed under his breath, looking away and muttering, "Another one to your name Father. Another to the atrocious count."

"How do you know it was your father who had killed him?" Amberdrake asked absently. It was in his nature to pry, he couldn't help himself.

Amvir paled. He hadn't wanted Drake to notice anything odd about his father, judging by his statements anyway. He should have known better. Given how much he had been slipping mentally, too much of his focus had been on maintaining his sanity and bounds on the rage-madness to avoid slipping up.

"Tralj hinted there was more to it than most stories. But when I pressed, he wouldn't tell, he said it was for you to tell me. It was your past after all," Drake continued, watching him carefully.

Amvir grinned and said lightly, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you planned this out with Skan and Gesten so you could ask."

The kestra'chern snorted. "Hardly, I was terrified Skan wouldn't come back. You know that."

"Yes, I do," Amvir looked at the floor of the tent, thinking. Wondering if he could dare to bare his past to this man. Wondering if he'd be able to express it right. If the man would hate him after he knew.

"My nickname is Amvir," he began, and his voice caught in his throat. He hadn't ever planned on telling someone. He didn't really know how to begin. He might as well start with the beginning, his name and his father. "My real name is Kiyamvir Ma'ar II."

Amberdrake jerked upright, starting to shout, "What?" But Amvir sprang forward and put a hand over his mouth, stilling his cry of shock. "Please don't shout," he begged. "I don't want people to wonder."

Drake nodded slowly, sitting back against his cushions, "So- your father- is Ma'ar?" he asked carefully. Amvir nodded, cringing.

He sighed in a whoosh of air, sitting back against the cushions. "Star-Eyed, that explains a lot."

Amvir relaxed and nodded ruefully. "I know it does."

Drake watched him for a while, then asked, "Do you want to tell me any more?"

"Do you want to know any more?" Kiyamvir asked him, raising his eyebrows.

The kestra'chern grimaced as he tried to imagine what life as Ma'ar's son would be like. It wasn't a pleasant concept. He sighed, thinking a little more. Drake met Amvir's eyes, and said softly, "Kiyamvir, I think you need to tell someone besides Tralj what you've been through. Urtho knows some I'm assuming, but I doubt he knows it all."

"He doesn't, I cannot tell him everything, he'd feel miserable. He's got enough on him as it is, and so do you Drake."

"But my job is to find more to put on my plate, so I may as well help you. Then you can help Urtho more so he won't have as much of a burden," Drake replied reasonably, shifting to become more comfortable. His eyes closed halfway, and he looked at his friend, tilting his head back and saying, "So, tell me. Tell me from the beginning til- you got together with Tralj."

"That's eighteen long and difficult years to go through," Amvir sighed, leaning back and staring at the canvas roof. He went back to his earliest memory and started to talk. He had done this with Tralj, but never with someone that he didn't know so well as to be able to predict their responses for every action- at least, most every action. Tralj still sometimes managed to surprise him.

"My best- well, only, friend I had when I was younger was a stablehand who was the same age as me. When my father found out we were friends, he seemed slightly angry. A few weeks later, he was taken away. My friend that is. I didn't know why. All I knew was my father had ordered it. I asked him, and he told me that friendships were a luxury, I couldn't afford them. Not as his son. I took the lesson to heart. After that I trusted only myself, my parents and my guards, because I had no choice in that matter.

"Later, when I was seven - my mother was Kaled'a'in, and she- was Urtho's youngest sister. My father didn't know this, and he found out at that time. My mother disappeared one evening, and I went to ask my father where she was. I eluded my guard, who thought I was in my room, and managed to get down to the prison quarter. I already knew my way around there. I'd been tutored in interrogation from five years old on up. My father was in the midst of an interrogation, and I knew he hated to be interrupted, so I hid, and watched so I could impress him with my knowledge of more advanced techniques.

"It was only then that I realized the victim was my mother. I was so horrified - I was frozen. I couldn't move. My mind forced me to watch and dispassionately register every blow she received. My training had served me in that respect. By the time he was through, I knew about my relation to Urtho, I no longer had my mother to trust, and I certainly wouldn't trust my father. I knew that he would now have no compunction about doing the exact same thing to me, and I lived out the rest of my life based on the assumption that anyone I came into contact with was a potential assassin or spy sent by my father to take me in or kill me quickly."

Drake said simply, "Well that must have been horrible. Seeing your mother die like that."

Unconsciously, the kestra'chern reached out with his Empathy, and sensed the understandable tension and anxiety, but also the underlying pain and terror these memories were calling up in him. He knew that the man in front of him had perfect memory, and he never forgot anything that he heard, saw, or said. He was a walking recording spell basically. Idly, Amberdrake wondered if that had been one of the modifications Ma'ar had put on him. He knew that there had been some, Amvir had mentioned that when he'd been keeping up the fiction of his being an interrogation and forced indoctrination victim of Ma'ar's. He saw no reason for that part to be false.

"It was, but it taught me to preserve my life through showing 'trust no one' much more thoroughly than what my father had told me," Kiyamvir shrugged, but Drake sensed a sharp spike in emotional pain when he said it, so he knew that whatever had been done to his mother, it had been decidedly traumatizing for her seven-year-old son.

The flap between the two parts of the tent, public and private, opened and Tralj stepped through. He saw Amvir-Kiyamvir, and knew what was happening immediately. Sitting down next to his friend, he put his arm around his shoulders and the prince leaned against him. The action was so thoughtless and habitual, and the relief Drake sensed so genuine, that any doubts he'd had about his two friends' real affection for one another vanished. Not that they had been more than residual to begin with, he was an Empath after all.

"After that- I lived my life. As normal as possible. I was mainly confined to the main palace, but I was able to learn how to defend myself, and I was told I was rather good at that."

"You were excellent ashke," Tralj replied softly, watching Amberdrake with eyes that asked him a question. Drake couldn't tell what question, so he was completely unable to answer, but he knew Tralj would ask him directly later.

"Thank you," Amvir replied, voice just as quiet. "Father would send me on some political missions as a sign of trust for the hosts, but I never went anywhere without a guard. When I was sixteen, Tralj was assigned to me as a guard. For a while- I treated him with the same indifference but after he didn't turn me in, I noticed some things. So I did an investigation of my own." Tralj's mouth twitched, he apparently knew this part of the story rather well.

"I had connections in my father's spy network. I'm sure he heard of my investigation of my guard at least partially, but not completely I'm sure, or he'd have set his own alarm bells ringing. But he was registered by a full Kaled'a'in family, but he's only half Kaled'a'in. That was one of quite a few discrepancies. Eventually- I found out he was working for Urtho. I knew the man was my uncle, but I still wasn't sure if I could trust the information I'd gotten, or if my father had planted it to test my loyalty. If I did nothing, then my father wouldn't be able to tell that I'd ever found the information. If I confronted Tralj, and he wasn't really a member of Urtho's spy network, he could go to my father and turn me in. Or he could be a spy set on me to look for traitorous ideas. All in all, I was cornered."

"Then your father gave us that mission to just view the entire country he ruled, in order to get a feel for the vastness of the empire you would have one day been in charge of," Tralj supplied, he knew this part just as well as his charge did, after all, it had been rather recent.

"Precisely," Amvir smiled slightly and continued, "I told him I knew he worked for Urtho, and told him that I personally would rather join Urtho than serve my father."

"I didn't fully believe you that time. I was wary all the time to keep you from trying to betray our location to your father," Tralj told him.

"I noticed you were watching more than normal. But then that guy attacked us, and extreme measures were required," the prince's eyes opened and he looked at Drake, eyes haunted. "That is the summation of my life. Till I knew Tralj cared for me same as I'd cared for him."

Amberdrake remained quiet for some time, and then he whispered, "Thank you for telling me. I won't tell anyone else. You have my word to that effect."

Amvir nodded curtly, then he stood abruptly and left, his shields strengthening and he became unreadable to even Drake's formidable empathic talent. The kestra'chern looked at Tralj, obviously confused, "Did I offend him? What did I do?"

"No, he just doesn't know how he's supposed to react. He's told me, but he trusts me absolutely. You, he hasn't known long enough. He knows your past from no less than three sources. You, Lionwind and Urtho. Then he asked me to confirm the story you told him by asking me for the story you told me."

"Suspicious much?" he asked sarcastically, then he sighed and said, "Harsh, and he is right to be so suspicious. I never guessed- never, that he might be the Crown Prince. Hell, I barely knew there was a Crown Prince."

"He was kept in the shadows most of his life. Hardly anyone really knows if he exists or not." Tralj stood, and Drake asked him, "You were asking me something with your eyes, what was it?"

"I was asking you if you realized how much it had cost him to lower his defenses that much, and if you realized how terrified he'll be until he can confirm you haven't let it leak." Then he left.

Amvir made it up to the War room and walked in, seeing his uncle in a fierce discussion with his Generals. Waiting for the conversation to be over, the Generals left and his uncle sagged in his chair, weary.

Amvir stepped forward and the Sorcerer started, then he relaxed and smiled at his nephew. "Hello Amvir, are you all right?"

"I've been better, but so have you. You need to eat," he got to the point immediately, sliding a plate in front of his uncle.

Urtho sighed, "I can't eat, not with Ma'ar making constant advances. Look at this map. It's horrible!"

"Uncle," Amvir sighed, and sat down on the table near his uncle, "Just because Father makes advances does not mean you cannot eat. You need to stay alive, collapsing from lack of food is not the answer to anyone's problems. Except maybe Ma'ar's, and I don't want that to be the case. Neither do you."

The Sorcerer, arguably one of the best in the world, sighed and started to eat. Amvir kept him light hearted with happy stories from camp or from his earlier life. Finally the food was all gone, and the Sorcerer planned on going to see Kechara for a bit, then go to sleep for the next day.

Amvir bade his uncle good night, and retreated to the rooms he shared with Tralj. He saw that the guard wasn't there, and sagged in relief, he needed time to think. Sitting in front of the fire, Zantha stretched herself out on the top of the chair, her tail reaching down to rest on his arm. "Everything all right Father?" she asked him, tone telling him she knew he was worried.

"It's fine Zantha, I just told Amberdrake about my father and he was rather shocked. So-" he trailed off, and she supplied the rest, "So you're worried he'll go and tell everyone. I wouldn't worry Kiyamvir, he's surprisingly close mouthed. Even for a kestra'chern!"

He grinned, and tried to follow the dragon's advice. He'd asked her if she wanted him to make another of her kind so she'd have company, but she said, "Maybe later." So he left it at that.

Not even his uncle knew Zantha existed. He didn't know how Urtho would react to another now proven Sorcerer to be living in the same place. To make Zantha, he'd traveled elsewhere, so as not to disturb any of the other mages' workings. Tralj- it would have been hard to keep it from him, so of course he knew.

The dragon rested her slender head on his shoulder, as he continued staring at the fire, still thinking and worrying, despite Zantha's assurances.

Tralj walked in and saw him still sitting there, the fire now reduced to embers, and grimaced. He knew Amvir needed to get his mind off things before he gave himself a nervous apoplexy, but at the same time this news couldn't come at a worse time. "I was helping the horse trainers and the healers. They'll need your help tomorrow, they found a spy for Ma'ar, and they aren't that good at interrogation."

The prince brightened instantly, he enjoyed torturing people that worked for his father by choice. If they had been forced, he was much more kind, but when they had chosen to serve his father, he took a perverse delight in their pain.

Tralj grimaced and said softly, "I hate it when you do that."

Amvir stood, Zantha taking to the air and sitting on the window sill, watching them. "Why?" he asked, slightly puzzled.

"Because you change- you're more like your father for a few days, and I don't really like that alteration," Tralj told him, leaning against the wall, not mentioning that avoiding that particular alteration of thought was the reason for them remaining in the tower in the first place.

"Oh," he paused for a while, knowing that the more he went to that side of his mind, the harder it was to keep his hold on his identity, much less his secrets. Then continued, "But it's something I can do. I'm useful. And no one else can do it. This is the only one since we got all the clans here."

"Yeah, I know. But- it's all right Amvir, it just worries me," they stood in silence for a bit longer, then Tralj looked at him and said, "Speaking of worrying. I know you, and you're probably terrified Amberdrake will tell someone else who you are."

He grinned ruefully, grateful he had let the topic drop, "I'm that predictable?"

Tralj smiled in return, "I know you better than anyone else Amvir, of course I know you'd be worried. You always worry about that."

"Do you think he really will keep it a secret?" Amvir asked, voicing his very real concern for his identity's security.

"Yes, he will, he's a kestra'chern, he's trained to keep his mouth shut on his client's business. You're not quite a client, true, but in this case, I'm sure he sees you as one. You didn't come to him, but he asked you."

"I haven't been familiar with him long enough to trust him absolutely, thank you for the reassurance," Kiyamvir's shoulders slumped, relief evident.

Tralj stepped forward and put an arm around his friend's shoulders. Kissing his forehead gently, he whispered, "Your welcome beloved."

Amvir leaned into him and rested his head on his shoulder, looking out the window, not seeing anything that was truly present.

The next morning, he headed for the healers on the edge of camp, and said, "You asked for me?"

"Yes, we have another one. He's unconscious in there. Normal stuff. We found your old list," one healer said. "Do you need an assistant?"

"No, I'll take my own notes," Amvir grinned in reply. "The last one was traumatized for life."

The man snorted, "I know, we had to send him to Mind Healers. And he was the most hard minded trainee we had."

"Well, he wasn't hard minded and hearted enough. It's all right, I can take my own notes and I'll translate them from bloodstained gibberish to readable gibberish."

The healer nodded and went inside the main tent. Amvir entered the small one, and Zantha, who had been invisibly following him, came in as well. She was rather good at this too.

Absently, he erected shields that kept sound from escaping the tent, and kept people out and unable to enter, as he looked the spy over. He didn't have any of the distinguishing marks, so he'd turned by choice, not by force.

Grinning, he woke the man up and set to work.

Hours later, he stepped out of the tent, a handful of notes clutched in his hand. He walked into the healers and said, "I need some more paper. I need to translate it for you."

The healer mutely handed him some paper and showed him to a desk he could use. The woman, new to the job, so she didn't know him, tried to ignore the bloodstains on him, and the poor condition of the notes, as well as the satisfaction of a job well done she saw in his eyes.

As he was transcribing, a young student on a dare walked into the tent to see the remains. He turned dead white, gasping for breath at what he saw, then he backed out of the tent and fainted.

His friends ran up to him and brought him around, then took him to the healers, claiming he had just fallen over for no apparent reason, not wanting them to know that he had walked through the now unshielded tent.

"Are you sure there was no cause to it?" the male healer Amvir got along with well, his name was Char, asked the group of teenage boys that had been taking a rare break period.

"Those are the same kids that kept on trying to walk through the shields. I recognize the signatures," Amvir called over his shoulder, squinting at line that was so stained he couldn't read it. He stood and went over to the healer, asking, "Can you make out this line for me?"

"Seems to be something propaganda like about the superiority of the higher races and how the dogs must know their place," the healer expertly translated the blood soaked scribbles and Amvir nodded thoughtfully, "Fits the context, thanks."

Returning to his transcription, he had gathered up the last of his notes and walked out to turn them over to Urtho's intelligence crew, figuring he'd find Tralj there as well, training new operatives.

But first, it seemed some of the good people of the area wanted a word with him.

The angry faces, filled with horror and disgust as well, were not the most welcoming sight and Amvir sighed. This was going to really suck. Especially if they started spreading the word. It had taken weeks for everything to calm down after last time. With any luck, the fact that there were so many more refugees would make it so that he wouldn't actually have to disprove it to everyone – they just wouldn't believe it after they had met him. Or would think it had been exaggerated.

At least he had a few people who would cover for him.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely, figuring it would be best to bite the bit and see what they had to say.

The group exploded.

"How could you-"

"Utterly disgusting!"

"I don't see how you can even be – "

"Something _Ma'ar _would have done!"

"Not worthy of –"

"Take lessons while you were stuck with that demon?"

"SHUT UP!"

Blessed silence. Amvir turned to the black gryphon that stalked over, finally healthy enough to move around again. "Hello Skandranon," he greeted politely, "Nice to see you up and about."

"You as well Amvir. Thank you for visiting while I was bedridden," Skan nodded politely before turning to the crowd, "You condemn him for dealing out what that thing dealt to our allies? He merely turned the tables on that bastard! He deserved a thousand times that for all the families he was responsible for destroying! It is only right that someone who was so badly harmed by Ma'ar be the one to throw it back at the spy!"

The crowd shuffled slightly and gradually dispersed, grumbling to themselves, while Amvir smiled at the gryphon and said, "Thanks, Skan. I really don't see their problem, I just remember what Tralj had done to him and what was done to me."

"That… explains a bit. But this isn't over Amvir," the gryphon said lowly, staring into his eyes, "I know something is up. We need to talk."

"Meet in my rooms tonight, bring Amberdrake," Amvir said, trying not to let his worry show. He could not see this meeting ending well.

Amvir walked back into his room, clean of all the blood that had stained him after the interrogation. He fed Zantha, and wrote further in his log of all that he did in interrogation and creative or new magic styles or forms. He wanted to record everything so that he wouldn't forget after thousands of years in service to Kalenal.

After he'd gone to make sure his uncle ate, and consult with the mages, and help organize supply distribution throughout the camp, and go over breeding programs for gryphons with his uncle, he finally ate his own dinner and went back to his rooms. This time Tralj was waiting for him, staring into the fire.

"Tralj?" Amvir asked nervously, "What's wrong?"

He looked up from his brooding and smiled slightly, "Nothing ashke, mainly worried about you actually. Zantha tells me there was a bit of a confrontation today."

Amvir collapsed onto a pile of cushions on the floor. He grimaced and said, "Yeah, there was, it got kind of nasty. Even though," here he smiled slightly, "What they said had a ring of truth, they said it looked like I'd been learning interrogation from Ma'ar since the age of three."

Tralj barked a laugh, then solemned and said, "And it was resolved?"

"Yes, Skan intervened and told the group off, saying the man was a slayer of gryphons and had turned people over to at least as much pain as I gave him, if not worse. But-" here Amvir hesitated, "Skan suspects something Tralj. I'm afraid he'll ask Drake- and he'll inadvertently let something slip- Skan wouldn't feel charitable towards Ma'ar's son!"

Hearing the start of genuine panic in his voice, Tralj stood and went to sit next to him, not offering physical comfort, just support. "Ashke, Drake wouldn't let anything slip. And you underestimate Skan. Maybe he'd be angry for a little bit, but if you can't defend yourself against an angry gryphon between your martial skills, magic and Zantha long enough for me to get there and defuse the situation, then I've overestimated you a long time."

"I could do it, I'm just afraid he won't. Tralj, you may be a better judge of people, but I'm paranoid. I'll always be paranoid."

Tralj now pulled Amvir against him, and said, "I know you will. With your past, I'd be worried if you weren't paranoid. But your paranoia is just another part of you. Without it, you wouldn't be the same Amvir."

Amvir chuckled, "First time I've heard paranoia explained as a character trait to be desired."

"When it comes to you, I like your paranoia the way it is," Tralj replied, smiling. They both looked up when they heard a knock on the door.

They both stood at once, and Amvir took a seat in a chair, Tralj opening the door to let Skan in, who sat on the cushions where they had been moments before. "Drake's on his way, we need to talk," Skan rumbled, looking at Amvir suspiciously, who didn't cringe under his gaze, but nodded briskly. Living as he had for eighteen years had given him excellent control.

Soon after, Amberdrake was admitted by Tralj, which was good, because the tense silence wouldn't have held for much longer. "Hey, what's going on? Skan said he had something he wanted to say to me that concerned you, and that he wanted me to hear. That's I'll I've been told or have told," Drake directed the last at Amvir, who relaxed slightly, and accepted the promise of not having divulged his secret to anyone.

"Today I witnessed a bizarre accusation, that Amvir here had been tutored by Ma'ar in matters of interrogation. Amvir explained it as remembering the things that had been done to him and Tralj, which I found made plenty of sense, so I defended him. But when I calmed down, I realized that the accusators had some points, points I want resolved. I want to know the truth," Skan said, looking at all three of the humans in the room solemnly.

Amvir asked quietly, "Do you really? The truth is often a heavy burden to bear. It is not always something to be desired."

"Tell me the truth, and I will be the judge of that," Skan replied, a challenge in his voice. He didn't believe what Amvir had told him of the nature of truth.

"The accusers were right, I have been tutored in interrogation by Ma'ar since I was three," Amvir didn't bother trying to delay, and dropped one of the many big ones right away.

Skan jerked to his feet, wings flaring as he screeched, "WHAT?" Tralj had also jumped to his feet, drawing his own blade and Amvir had produced two knives barely a thumb length from being called swords. Drake stayed seated, eyes wide as he watched his friends all ready to attack one another.

"Your parents left you to Ma'ar? In that country, does not the father have the right and the duty to keep his children and family from harm?" Skan asked, voice low and angry enough to sear stone.

Amvir's knuckles went white, and fury flashed across his face. "Ma'ar is my father!" he snarled, ready and waiting for what he was sure to be Skan's impending attack.

* * *

**A/N: Okay - the line breaks still didn't work (even just typing a bunch of x's), but enjoy your ten pages anyway! First sort of cliffie too!**


	13. Chapter 13

Skan squealed like a dying pig and fell over, in a dead faint. Amvir looked down at him, puzzlement overriding the rage that had filled him. As Tralj and him both sheathed their blades, the three humans exchanged looks and started to laugh.

Laughter subsiding to chuckles, Amvir went over and touched Skan's beak. Kneeling next to his head, he worriedly started to press certain pressure points that should bring him around. He had helped his uncle design the latest gryphons after all. He knew their design inside and out.

Skan's bleary eyes opened, but when he saw Amvir, he gave a battle cry that made Amvir grateful he'd sound-proofed the room so no one could hear what went on inside, even when the door was open, and chomped down on Amvir's arm.

Crying out in pain, Amvir jabbed another point near his beak's hinges that forced the gryphon to release his death grip on Amvir's arm enough that Amvir was able to extract his arm and back away, clutching it to his chest, seething. Tralj felt the pain like it was his own and when Skan jumped to his feet, Tralj interposed himself between Amvir and Skan, and, to everyone's surprise, Amberdrake joined him.

Skan stopped, and stared at Amberdrake in shock, "You knew? You must have, you are not surprised."

"I did, Amvir told me. And I swore that I would tell no one else, since your reaction just justified the safeguards he put on his identity. Now you will get over there, sit down, and stay there, or I will not be able to save you from Tralj's anger." Drake pointed a rigid finger at the cushions he had been on, and when Skan walked over there, sitting down with Tralj standing furious guard over him, Drake knelt next to Amvir, saying softly, "Let me see the arm."

Hesitating, as if afraid Drake too would turn on him, Amvir let him examine the wound that was bleeding profusely. Matter-of-factly, the kestra'chern healed the physical wound and saw the expression of absolute alienation and dejected loneliness on the Crown Prince's face. Amvir scooted backwards so he was in a corner and felt the comforting of solidity of wall on two sides.

"Now," Drake said, standing and moving to a chair that faced all three of them, "Skan, ask."

"Do you have any idea how much suffering your family has caused? How much you have caused? Why you couldn't have killed him when you determined your loyalty lay elsewhere- you could have stopped this war from happening!" Skan started to rise at the end, but Tralj's weight shifted, and Skan resettled himself.

"Of course I know!" Amvir snapped back, hurt. "And of course I would have tried to kill him if I dared. But he held everything dear to me and how could I have defied him? At a hint of traitorous thoughts he would have had me arrested, tortured, and killed, along with all those who'd I'd had for guards, all those who I showed slight affection for, and all those one's relatives. I couldn't do anything for fear of innocent blood spilled for no reason other than the fact I hadn't applauded enthusiastically enough at his last speech."

"You expect me to believe he would have destroyed you? The one who is his heir?" Skan asked, scorn in his voice.

"He had my mother, his wife, tortured and executed by his own hand. He loved her more than he ever did me, so don't you dare think that he would have hesitated visiting upon me the same atrocities he does to gryphons!" Amvir had tears running down his face now, but his voice was so full of bitter rage that, in the darkness of the corner he had hidden himself in, no one suspected it.

Skan shot to his feet at the perceived insult to gryphons and Tralj was buffeted aside, unconscious instantly, the gryphon had used a debilitating combination of magic and physical force that all humans were vulnerable too.

Zantha was the only thing that saved Amvir's life that day. Screaming, "Father!" she bolted in front of Skan, who calmly chomped down on her fragile body as she clawed at his face and chest, freely sacrificing herself for her beloved father's sake.

"Zantha!" Amvir cried, feeling her soul depart as her body fell limp to the ground. Sobbing, he crawled over to her and gathered the dead dragon in his arms, whispering her name over and over again, ignoring the angry gryphon that towered above him, who would easily be able to break his neck. Tralj stirred, and looked over at Amvir, and paled, saying, "Oh no, Kal'enel please." He scrambled over to Amvir's side, and tears of grief running down his own face, he gathered Amvir in his arms, letting him sob into his shoulder.

Drake was standing, eyes glittering with unshed tears as he sensed the sharp emotional agony that was ripping Amvir apart along with guilt, despair and a deep, long present self-hate. Turning to Skan, he snarled, "Well I hope you're happy you arrogant, self centered gryphonic fool! You imbecile! You common minded perchi of a viciousness equal only to Shakith's military incompetence!"

"She said father," Skan said blankly, staring at the dead body being cradled against Amvir's chest. "She called him father."

"He is her father as Urtho is yours," Tralj said flatly, rising as Amvir still wept, disconsolate over the loss of one of his dearest friends and companions to another friend. "You just destroyed everything I'd worked so hard to build. The idea that he could trust people. That he could relax in company of friends. That he could enjoy simple conversation without jumping at every mention of his father's name! You killed all of it, and you might as well have killed him, and by him me," Tralj snarled, hands clenching into fists. Skan was still bewildered when Amberdrake sighed and said quietly, "Skan, they're lifebonded."

Comprehension flooded Skan's expression. "You- you and him?" he asked Tralj, who nodded, face closed as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"She never hurt anyone," Amvir said softly, voice curiously devoid of emotion as he put the limp form aside. Tralj paled, and hissed, "Skan, get out. Now."

"No Tralj, he can stay. I want him to realize the enormity of what he just did," Amvir said, voice still dead. His expression was blank, his eyes holding a bizarre light to them that made Amberdrake doubt his sanity. "Both of you, get out," Tralj continued calmly, contradicting his lifebonded like it was a normal thing.

Suddenly, Amvir snapped, and threw himself at Skan, when Tralj intercepted him, holding him back as he shouted, "I hate you! I hate you! I want to kill you! I want to utilize every damned bit of knowledge my father gave me against you! Tralj let GO of me!"

Skan backed away, still not having enough presence of mind to get out. "What the hell is happening?" he asked in disbelief.

Tralj panted, "He's- snapped. Get the hell out dammit! Drake, you too! Wait in the library, I'll call you when I get him calmed down."

Skan finally bolted, Drake following him and shutting the door, both of them sagging in relief as soon as they agonized shouts of Amvir were cut off completely. Then they proceeded to the library, Amberdrake also angry with his friend for being so inconsiderate

As soon as the object of his wrath left, Amvir collapsed in Tralj's grasp, weeping hoarsely. Tralj sat down on a couch, pulling Amvir down next to him, who promptly scooted to the far side of the couch, curling up on himself. "Go away," he said miserably. "If you get to Skan soon enough, maybe he'll forgive you."

"Ashke, I won't leave you hanging out to dry," Tralj replied softly, starting to reach out but halting when he saw the unbridled terror in Amvir's eyes.

"You should. Everyone hates me. Everyone will once Skan screeches my parentage to the world. You'll be lucky to escape. I don't want to ruin more lives," Amvir replied, crying still.

"I don't hate you," Tralj insisted quietly, "And I know Amberdrake doesn't, and neither does your uncle."

"They should. You should. I hurt everyone. I'm the reason father tortured you, I'm the reason this war is going on and Urtho's creations are getting killed. I'm the reason for all the misery in this camp! I'm the reason for Amberdrake's family's death!" though he was growing more vehemenant, he was staying in the same dismally despairing and hopeless tone.

Dragging Amvir to lean against him, he ran his fingers through his beloved's hair and mentally called, _:Urtho! Need you here now!:_

_:Coming.: _The sorcerer replied, sensing the urgency of his message.

"Amvir," Tralj whispered, "Your father tortured me because I worked for Urtho. Okay, maybe a bit because of you, but not all of it. And how are you responsible for the war and for Drake's family's death? You can't work miracles or stop time."

"You heard Skan. I could have killed my father many times through the course of my life," Amvir's voice was muffled as he struggled to get away from Tralj, Tralj not letting him go.

Tralj opened his mouth to argue but Urtho arrived at that moment, and saw his weeping nephew and the limp draconic form on the ground and he gasped. "Zantha?" he had only recently been told about her by his nephew that morning, but had grown fond of the being.

"Dead, Skan killed her," Tralj replied softly. Urtho's expression of shock registered with Amvir, who said sadly, "Everyone hates me. See. He blames her death on me. He should. If I had been more careful, Skan wouldn't have had to have been told, and she wouldn't have died. See? It is all my fault."

Urtho bit his lip, the matter would have been funny if Amvir hadn't been taking every word seriously. Sitting next to his nephew, he put an arm around his shoulders and said quietly, "I don't hate you. You are of my blood and I love you as a son. You are very dear to me, the only blood family I have left. My gryphons and you and Tralj have become my family now, and I am not one to hate my own family."

"You should. You should hate me. Everyone should. Don't hate Tralj though. It's not his fault I corrupted him," Amvir was speaking blankly, formidable talent diminished by grief and pain so staggering in its enormity that Urtho did not ever want to feel as his nephew now did.

"Who the hell said that?" Tralj asked, indignantly furious.

"Skan was thinking it, he was broadcasting that he couldn't believe that even Ma'ar's son was heartless enough to twist another human being to love him. I guess he's right. He was about all the rest."

Tralj snarled insults, and Urtho's face was blank with anger. He stood, and told Tralj, "Stay here." He swept out of the room, heading for the library.

Tralj said forcefully, "I do not hate you. I will never hate you. And you did not twist me into loving you. I loved you before we even acknowledged it, but I resisted because I was afraid for you. You cannot force a lifebond." He was tempted to add a joking 'silly' at the end, but this was a dire matter, and time for joking was past.

Urtho glided into the library, straight into an argument between Amberdrake and Skandranon. Though, since Amberdrake seemed to be shouting insults at Skan, who was unable to get a word in edgewise, it seemed rather one sided.

Waiting for Drake to pause for breath, Urtho jumped in and snarled, "Do you know what you- you- you arrogant, featherheaded fool have forced him to say and think? Do you?"

Both shook their heads, but, sensing an ally, Drake went to stand closer to Urtho. The Sorcerer produced a small recording device of his invention, and suddenly they heard Amvir's voice saying, "You should. You should hate me. Everyone should. Don't hate Tralj though. It's not his fault I corrupted him," and, after Tralj had asked what the hell he meant by that, "Skan was thinking it, he was broadcasting that he couldn't believe that even Ma'ar's son was heartless enough to twist another human being to love him. I guess he's right. He was about all the rest."

Drake, pale with shock, turned on his friend again and shouted, "You imbecile!" Then he swept out of the room, anger radiating from him. Urtho shook his head in disgust and followed, Skan left feeling utterly alone and betrayed.

Amvir and Tralj were still bickering about whether or not everyone hated or should hate Amvir, and Tralj was weeping now, grieved by his beloved's state of mind.

Urtho sat on the other side of the still stubbornly arguing Amvir, while Drake stood stock still, the thick cloud of self-hate and despair that filled the room nearly making him gag.

"Oh goddess, what has happened to you," Tralj wept, holding Amvir close to him as he still mumbled about how everyone should hate him.

As if that grief stricken lament had summoned her, Kal'enal appeared before them. Drake hit his knees, as did Urtho, Tralj looked at her with tears running down his face as he nearly begged, "Please, help him."

She came over, telling the two kneeling to rise, which they did, filled with awe at the Goddess' presence. Amvir looked up and asked hopefully, "Is Zantha happy?"

"Zantha is fine. But she is not happy because you are not," She said softly in reply, sitting next to him.

"How can I be happy? Will you convince them that it is better for them to hate me?" Amvir asked, nearly begging himself.

"Don't you dare," Tralj snarled, glaring at Her despite Her status.

"I won't," She said, ignoring Tralj, since She never would force someone to be hated. Reaching out, She touched his forehead, and he collapsed, limp. She remained still for a minute, and when She moved, She looked at Tralj and said, "He will listen to you now. But your work towards trusting anyone but the three in this room has been destroyed. And-" She shook her head, "His grief is deep. It simply compounds on all the other grief he keeps inside of him. The rage madness is under control as well, so he can see Skandranon again without snapping."

Standing, She went over to Zantha's body and picked it up, carrying it back to them, and the corpse stirred. "I- what?" Zantha asked, confused. Tralj's mouth dropped open, and Kal'enel smiled, "This will ease your job in keeping him fully sane. Now," She turned to Urtho and Drake, who were staring at Her in complete shock, "None of you will tell anyone what has transpired here. You may tell Skandranon. That is it. Not until a century has passed may you mention this," that last She addressed to Tralj, who nodded and said, "I'll tell him when he wakes."

Zantha stretched her wings and jumped over to land on Amvir, curling up on his chest. The Goddess nodded at the two of them, and vanished. Amvir remained unconscious, and Tralj turned to the other two in the room.

"A century? None of us will be alive that long," Drake said blankly.

Tralj shrugged. "Who knows?"

Skan was brought back in, much subdued, while Amvir was still unaware of the world. Tralj and Zantha both didn't move, not eager to interact with Skan. "Sorry," the gryphon said quietly, sitting down. "I just- he's Ma'ar's son all right? I'm not too inclined to feel that charitable towards anyone related to Ma'ar right now."

"Then you'll have to feel uncharitable for me as well, Amvir's mother is my sister," Urtho replied softly. He was trying to prove to Skan that his unreasonable assumption that anything and everything related to Ma'ar was instantly evil was wrong.

"You- you're related to Ma'ar?" Skan asked, expression on his face so comically bewildered and shocked that Tralj had to chuckle slightly.

Amvir stirred slightly, and his eyes opened, Urtho's lecture continuing. He looked at Tralj and he smiled slightly, then down at Zantha and he grinned as she greeted him mentally. Tralj also contacted him mentally and through mind speech, he was brought up to speed on what had transpired.

"Don't be too hard on him Uncle," Amvir said after Urtho paused for breath. "I can't say I blame him. Though I must say that the unprovoked attack on me and Zantha did piss me off, and still does."

"I'm sorry Amvir," Skan said sincerely and contritely.

Amvir smiled slightly and nodded, whispering, "I accept your apology and offer my own. I could have broken that particular bit of news a bit better."

"I don't know of any other way that would do it in a timely manner," Skan retorted, "Your way worked. But it probably would have been better had you been further away. Maybe a letter or something."

Amvir barked a laugh, "That would be a wonderful letter. 'Dear Skan. I'm Ma'ar's son. Just thought I'd let you know! –Amvir'."

Skan snorted as well, and the atmosphere instantly lightened. Skan asked questions which everyone took turns answering, until he and Drake finally left. Urtho stood and kissed his nephew on the forehead, who hugged him fiercely. Then Urtho too left.

Sitting upright, Amvir looked at Tralj and said simply, "I'm sorry. I snapped."

"I know," Tralj said in reply. They sat in silence for a while, then Tralj started to weep, Amvir putting his arms around him and holding him close.

* * *

**A/N:** Not too happy with this chapter, one reason it took so long. If you have any ideas on what I could do to make it better, please let me know! Thanks and enjoy!


	14. Chapter 14 BG:Conclusion

"You do it!"

"No – you do it!"

"I'm not the one who had the brilliant idea – "

Amvir woke up as soon as the tent flap was pushed in. He had spent a day with the mages scrying and working on the mage-sight traps that had gotten one of their apprentices the day before and had been offered a chance to lie down before they got to work piecing apart another mage-energy trap they'd found. Thankfully before it was activated this time. The others needed to take apart similar traps to the one they'd already disabled, which was more time consuming than powerful.

After his nervous breakdown two nights before, Tralj had been uneasy to let him out of his sight for very long. Amvir had endured, not wanting to worry his ever-tolerant _ashke_ more than strictly necessary, but he had been suffocating. Thankfully Zantha-dearest had gone off to tell his Uncle that Amvir was very near breaking into a homicidal rage and Uncle had found something to occupy Tralj so Amvir could get out of their suites and into the camp once more. That was where he had run into Vikteren, who had heard he'd suffered some form of mental attack while scrying on Ma'ar and could he help the mages break down some similar traps if he was feeling up to it?

Never one to say no to a ready-made excuse, Amvir agreed and followed Vik back to the mages he was now working with.

Cracking an eyelid, he recognized the true Journeymen and Apprentice mages of the group, three in total. One Journeyman who had reached her full potential and two Apprentices. One had the ability to go further, to Master level probably, while the other was destined to be no more than a hedge-wizard. Given what Amvir had seen hedge-wizards do, that was no insult, though naturally he preferred being super-charged on power. It made things much simpler when you really could power your way out of almost any situation.

"Do I _want_ to know why you three are standing over me like giggly children?" Amvir asked calmly, smirking when the woman twelve years his senior squeaked in embarrassment as he opened his eyes and sat up.

"The mages are almost ready for you again," the apprentice, a friend of Vik's if he recalled right, said. "They sent us to wake you."

"Far less worrisome than I thought, thank you," Amvir got to his feet and left, mouth twitching as he heard the hasty whisper, "_Why didn't you ask him about that cute soldier he's friends with?"_

Could only be Tralj. This was too good, Tralj had a fan, and from the sounds of it, more than one. Ah young love.

Amvir snorted, young love. All three of the people in that tent had been older than him by at least four years. Being twenty-three and calling those in their thirties young was probably not his most reasonable move. But reason was always something he was rather short on if you believed the more wild stories.

He preferred being able to power his way out of situations for a reason after all. No need to change that just because he felt like conserving energy after his attack of two days ago.

=====pagebreak======ignorethis======does=anyone=know=how=to=make=pagebreaks=without=words?=====pagebreak======

"So you just need some more subtle variations on the beads and you'll have a comprehensive set," Amvir was saying that night, chatting over dinner with Vik about his locksmithing skills.

"Thanks for the tips," Vik grinned, "Master wants me to work on some more fine control stuff, thinks it'll be useful if I ever get a power boost."

"Well here's to that being a long time coming. I see no reason for my friend to rush to be field fodder in Shakith's division," Amvir toasted, Vik echoing it with a bitter laugh. It really was a shame, Amvir mused, watching as Vik put the beads away. Vik had a knack with the small things, but with that attention to detail he would be invaluable in bigger workings. But in Shakith's division it really was better for him and his potential to be working as just another Journeyman, limited by his power sources and incapable of progressing further.

They continued their meal, idle chatter and camp gossip interspersed with mage ideas and new works to try out to try and get an edge in this forsaken war. Amvir meanwhile, was getting some interesting things from those keys Vik had shown him. Certainly, it was only a few days since he had last seen Skan and Amberdrake, but he was not their only recourse, and Skan had been seen frequently in the company of the pretty Lady Zhaneel of obstacle course fame. According to Vikteren, this relationship was very far progressed indeed, and missed only one of the official hallmarks of a true life-long union. Gryphlets.

Knowing very well his uncle's policy on gryphon breeding and the reasons for them (products of many a conscious stricken night while Urtho tried to patch together broken families in the early years), Amvir couldn't help but see that this would be good for two things. The trust the gryphons had in his uncle, particularly if the reasons for his keeping breeding freely from them came up, and taking one more burden from his uncle's shoulders. So there was only one thing left to do. Drop some blatantly obvious hints and know Vik would know that he knew what they were up to, and would do nothing to stop it.

"And should you ever need a library to do some research on topics of…interest. Like, oh, say the logistics of command," Amvir smirked, rising to his feet now that the meal was well over, "Urtho's library is particularly used to the key of the teal variety, though it has been known to alternate between shades of blue."

Vik got a dumbfounded look on his face and Amvir winked, "Play nice with the books," he warned, before walking out the door cheerily. He may not be able to apologize to Skan face-to-face without wanting to punch the gryphon in his highly sensitive nares, but he could at least send over a peace offering.

Besides, they would have just tested all the keys anyway. He had just made it easier, and made a seemingly noble gesture at the same time.

And people had said he didn't understand the subtleties of politics.

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"Uncle?" Amvir rapped on the workroom door, stepping in after Urtho had acknowledged him with an absent hand-wave. "You do realize it is just past midnight, correct?"

"Yes, Amvir – but I feel as though I have made some progress," he smiled sadly from his workbench. "Would you like to see it?"

Amvir walked over and looked over his uncle's shoulder, smiling as he saw the hummingbird pendant done in silver with small gems set aside to set in it for feathers. "Jewelry making? It is beautiful, Uncle."

"I'm also testing those gem-enhancement properties," Urtho grinned tiredly. "Silver for the protections, green emeralds for healing, yellow topaz for purification and ruby's for defense. The rainbow-opals for the chest feathers are just for looks."

"Just as well, opals are ideal illusion holders, and that doesn't seem to be your intent for this one," Amvir grinned back, relieved to see his uncle hadn't been staying up all night doing something for the war. It was nice to see him tinkering once again, as after the dyrstaf attacks on the King the war had taken a turn for the worse.

"No, a protection piece from mage energy for those who cannot defend themselves," Urtho sighed. "Straight silver has a tendency to melt when the energy gets too high. The gems should help, especially given how many I intend to imbed in that little bird."

"Well leave some for you to work on tomorrow Uncle, you need your rest," Amvir urged, Urtho sighing and standing, retying his silver mane at his neck. "Of course nephew. Let us go."

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Amvir spat a clot of blood onto the floor of his old palace, bitterly recalling that statement mere weeks ago. His uncle hadn't been able to go back to work on that bird pendant after the chaos Skan and the others had unleashed after releasing the secrets of breeding and confronting Urtho over Kechara. Amvir had watched with bated breath when Skan had gone to confront his uncle, feeling justified in his worry over Skan's possible overreaction.

He had worried for nothing, and Kechara had been introduced to the standard gryphon population with a fair amount of ease. Skandranon and Zhaneel were obviously falling deeper and deeper in love, and Amberdrake's Winterhart had thawed and been revealed as an Empathic noblewoman broken by the dyrstaf assault on the king's palace.

Amvir had been asked by Amberdrake to speak with her, and he had taken care to avoid mentioning that he had two more of the things in the Tower. No one but Uncle and Tralj knew of that and it was probably better that way.

_:Take a left:_ Amvir ordered Skan, who was leading the way through the palace. They were trying to find Ma'ar and deliver the weapon around Skan's neck after rescuing Kechara and Aubri.

The ebony gryphon didn't hesitate in following his directions to his relief. They had already run into some guardsmen, Amvir and Skan taking them out magically. Skan had killed his. Amvir had recognized some of them and hadn't been able to bring himself to kill some of the guards who had helped raise him.

He only hoped he wouldn't regret that later.

Tralj wasn't here, instead helping get the last evacuating party out. He was also saying his goodbyes to Urtho, who had been attacked by that thrice damned Conn Levas.

Amvir's eyes burned, throat closing up as he remembered Urtho's tiredness when they revealed the type of poison he had been struck with. Guilt had hit him like a physical blow – not only had he helped create a more virulent form of that poison years ago, but he had been in charge of weeding out Ma'ar's spies and he had missed Levas entirely. An entire battalion – Shakith and Garth's entire senior officer group – all of them had gone over to Ma'ar.

Amvir had taken his time with Shakith, since Skan killed Levas immediately.

"Go straight through!" Amvir shouted, "I need to get something!"

Though he had left nothing truly important to him behind when they had cleared out his belongings when he first went to Urtho, Amvir recognized the weapon Skan was carrying and had a feeling the destruction of all spells and magical bindings in this palace would be catastrophic. There were a few things he would prefer to keep if he could, rather than have them melted down in a magical cataclysm.

If, as he suspected, Urtho planned to do the same to his Tower – well, Amvir only hoped the evacuation finished in time. No one near the Tower would survive.

Blasting straight through the magically sealed doors to the basement workrooms, Amvir leapt through the falling marble, having no time for subtlety. He was here for his own kit. His father had been incompatible with it, but it was impossible to destroy another mages kit while that mage was alive, which must have frustrated Ma'ar to no end.

Grabbing the black leather case, taking the heavily enchanted and rune enhanced leather armor and pulling it on, he hesitated before grabbing his heir coronet. It was a powerful focci, as well as a symbol of his authority as Heir to the Kiyamvir. As much as he hated the idea of using the damned thing, he knew it was going to be important they use any edge they had when they got to the evacuation group they were assigned to.

He ran back up the stairs, enforcers batons at his belt. The batons could be transformed into a mages staff, but the batons were far more useful for non-lethal combat and less noticeable than a tall ironwood stave carved and bejeweled.

Letting the crown of amber-eyed wolves rest on his head again, Amvir let out a shuddering breath as power chorused through him when the enchantments activated. Eyes glowing, the normal grey color reflecting to a silvery luster, he ran through the halls again, needing to get to the main throne room so he could get out of here.

The enchantments on the heir coronet linked him to the extensive wards and magical stores within the palace, as well as granting him an awareness for the land and people he considered 'his'. This territory hadn't been established by him since just before he abandoned Ma'ar with Tralj, so he would need to readjust the terms when he had time, but for now the more important part was that he could bleed off some power from the magical stores here in an effort to lessen the fallout from Skandranon's device. Any bit would possibly save one person in the surrounding city from the devastation, and any small piece would help salve his own guilt.

He had been raised to rule these people, abandoning them to death because his father was an arrogant bastard who had finally gone too far wasn't something he felt comfortable with.

Rounding the last corner and seeing Skan toss the weapon at Ma'ar's feet, Aubri and Kechara already through the Gate, he sighed in relief. At least they had an escape route –

Stumbling as he felt a sudden power surge slam down on him, he clenched his teeth, blood leaking out his nose as the power ran wild through his channels. Twitching, he looked up, Ma'ar laughing madly as he stabbed his own chest repeatedly. That explained it – he was wearing the Heir coronet and his father was dying. The full power transfer of the Kiyamvir enchantments was starting.

Another wave of white-hot agony washed over him and his vision blacked out briefly, coming back to see he was on his hands and knees on the marble floor, panting and an ache in his throat like he had been screaming.

"Amvir!" Skan shouted, a beak grabbing the back of his armor, the gryphon dragging him to the Gate out of the already shaking palace.

He tried to reassure Skan he was alright, but instead made sure he was holding tightly onto his kit, trembling as intermittent waves of pain struck him. Losing it in the nauseating void would be irksome to put it mildly.

Entering the Void, if anything, made the pain worse. The ribbons of energy and dizzying falling sensation inherent to crossing the void was ripped by shock waves, making the entirely uncomfortable sensation far worse. He hadn't realized how used to the silence of the Void he was until it was no longer quiet. The buzzing he could hear in the lowest range of his hearing was a constant hum as Skan pulled him through the Portal and instilled a bone deep terror—the Void was silence, the absence of all reality. To hear anything, even a low hum, was terrifying.

It was only when the crossed the boundary into Urtho's Tower that Amvir realized he was still screaming.

"Amvir!" Skan cried, spitting out the leather.

Panting, he rolled onto his side, coughing hoarsely, blood spraying from his lips. Unhooking the batons from his belt, he gave them a flick, the chain-linked ironwood batons becoming a full length staff he could use to drag himself to his feet.

"Ugh," he grimaced, leaning heavily on the staff, kit in its messenger bag at his feet. "That was unfortunate."

Seeing Kechara curled up on Urtho's lap, crying, Aubri's head bowed with grief, Amvir had to blink back tears. Even for a few moments he had forgotten his uncle's fate, only for it to come crashing down on him again. He would almost prefer the agony and terror of the Void ripping itself apart.

"If we are to Gate out of here, it would be best to do so soon – the Void is behaving strangely," he said softly. Urtho smiled at him sadly, hands clenching the arms of his chair, veins in his hands bulging as his knuckles went white, node energy taming under his experienced hands before switching the destination of the Gate beside them.

Amvir looked through and could see the Clan's people, gryphons and floating barges waiting for them.

"The evacuation is over then?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, they are gone. Tralj, Zhaneel and Amberdrake are waiting for you over there. I asked them to remain," Urtho gasped. "There is a corresponding meltdown sequence here. I need you to activate it Amvir."

"Then the rest of you must go through first," he ordered, Kechara wailing that she did not want to leave her father.

Letting Urtho and Skandranon soothe her, Amvir turned to Aubri and said, "Look after her okay? The Gates are destabilizing."

Aubri's eyes widened and he nodded, quickly hustling Kechara through the portal, moving with as much speed as he could.

Amvir found a box like the one Skandranon had used, recognizing the signature. Sighing, he grabbed his kit and swung it around by the strap a few times to gather momentum, before letting it fly through the Gate. Some of those supplies could be useful to the others.

Skan waited by the Gate as Amvir carried the weapon to his uncle, kneeling beside the man and looking up at the kind, now scarred face. "I will miss you Uncle," Amvir said softly, tears running down his face.

Urtho chuckled, trembling hand touching his cheek. "I will miss you, son of my sister. If I had a son, I would hope he'd be something like you and Tralj. Go Amvir. Live outside the shadow of your father at last."

Amvir stood and kissed Urtho's forehead, the Sorcerer pulling his head down to kiss his forehead in return. "Now, activate that and go!" Urtho gasped, "The shockwaves are getting closer!"

"Skan go!" Amvir shouted, activating the weapon and dropping it on the floor, running after the gryphon but unable to resist pausing, looking over his shoulder at the man who had helped teach him to be human one last time.

"I love you uncle," Amvir said, voice choked, before plunging through the ominously rippling Gate.

The silence of the Void was gone now. Screaming and screeching, howls and a low, ominous humming deafened him as he raced after Skan, feeling the energy lash at his physical form and his own magical abilities. Skan was racing desperately right before him, but Amvir couldn't help but feel something was wrong. They should have exited the Gate by now—

Suddenly, the anchored path they were traveling shuddered and Amvir stumbled with a cry of shock, even more horrified in the fact he could actually hear his own voice, though faint with the rest of the noise that followed him. Skan screeched defiantly, though they both knew if the Gate was collapsing, they were done.

_:NO!:_ Amvir roared mentally, power coalescing around him even in the raw chaos of the Void, grabbing to his bond with Tralj and plunging forward, grabbing Skan and pulling him after him, the gryphon heeding his orders again and staying close behind as they were buffeted by agonizing strips of energy and surges of ecstatic and overwhelming power.

It could have been years, it could have been centuries or seconds. The Void had no time—at least that hadn't changed about the origin of the magic of the world. But finally he felt a familiar signature reaching towards him, barely tamed node energy surging down at him with the desperation of a dying man.

Amvir grabbed it with equal desperation, letting Skan pass him as he anchored, power roaring down the link they had formed to hold the forces of the Void at bay long enough to let them pass. Finally, finally he pulled himself through, staggering on suddenly solid ground as the Gate behind them collapsed in a violent flash of heat and light.

Staff still in his hands somehow, he braced himself on it heavily, barely aware of the people around him moving.

Suddenly arms were around him, hands were taking a staff from numb fingers while Tralj lifted him into his arms with no seeming effort. Unfair with his armor, Amvir thought blearily, totally unfair that the extra weight didn't even phase him.

"Skan?" he managed, "Kechara? Aubri?"

"They made it through," Tralj said, "Though you and Skan were a near thing, the Gate, it started to collapse Amvir."

"I know," he groaned, "It was _horrible_."

He could try to put it into words, but he knew he would fail. Something about the experience transcended any sort of method of expression. So instead he let Tralj lay him down on a cot, Tamsin setting the staff down near him.

Amvir knew he should say something reassuring to his frantically worried _ashke_, but it just seemed far too much work. Instead, he smiled weakly before passing out. He wanted to be unconscious before the magical shock waves hit even this distant place, at least then only his dreams would be torn apart.

* * *

**A/N: **Well I suck. Enough said, sorry for the late update. But this concludes the Black Gryphon! Now, a question: Do I continue in order or not?

I have ideas for White/Silver and most of the rest of the books in the series, so do I go in chronological order or do I jump around like mad with labels in the chapter titles? I'll go in order at least until Vanyel. After that it's more up in the air. Opinions are welcome.

So are reviews in general of course. Hope the Black Gryphon conclusion didn't disappoint!


	15. Chapter 15: The Founding

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Velgarth, just playing with it. Presenting: The founding of Valdemar!

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"Trevin," he called over his shoulder as he cast his cloak over a chair, revealing a uniform that set the most powerful men in the Empire to quaking. "The library."

"Yes my lord," the valet and right hand man of the Lord Mage of the Wolves bowed before proceeding about his duties, knowing his overlord would want a few minutes to himself in the room that was his office and study. It also happened to be the most secure room in the manor-fortress.

Sweeping into the room with a swish of cloth, Trevin put a cup of tea next to the Lord Mage's elbow and said, "To work again sir?"

Kiyamvir Ma'ar, Lord Mage of the Wolves and Imperial Enforcer, smiled as he sipped his tea. "To work again Trevin."

"Will I at least be able to kill someone this time? I love the whole cloak and dagger bit, don't get me wrong, but to be honest it gets a little dreary after a while," Trevin slumped in a chair across from him, looking over the table that had a map of the Empire and its surrounding territories.

Amvir, called Ghost-eyes by his enemies, laughed at his second in command's concerns. "I am unsure. To put it mildly, Emperor Mejar's latest actions have me—concerned."

"The collection of the first-born sir? Yes, we have been keeping track of those particular actions," Trevin yawned. "How tedious. Someone has objected then?"

"Is expected to, now that it has extended to second sons as well. It is a troubled fief according to the Emperor's policies, though there is little unrest. He still wants me to inspect it," Amvir snorted as he tapped the fief in question with a finger. "The Barony of Valdemar."

"I would hate to see anything happening to him. His great grandfather was a good man."

"Aye sir, you'd be the only one to know that any longer. So the Emperor wishes for us to do something then? Does that mean the letters of notification have already been sent?" Trevin waved off the reference to Amvir's immortality with marked unconcern. He did not care for the games of gods, merely in making others bleed—Amvir had shown him the joys of righteous slaughter, namely not having to flee from the law, and had gained his undying loyalty in return.

"We are to arrive within two weeks time," Amvir sighed. "I suppose we must leave soon."

"We walking?"

"Horseback."

"Well then m'lord, let's go put the fear of the Wolves in them!"

Amvir laughed in the flickering light, letting another vestige of sanity begin to fade as he did so. "Yes! Let's!"

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Kal'enel, as Her worshippers called Her, was a facet of a being that was called Him, It, Master, Mistress—any number of names and faces to any number of cultures. Her Eternal Companion was similar—and they both had their favored Peoples, faces and avatars.

Her own favorites were her Shin'a'in and Tayledras, as well as those who called themselves Kaled'a'in. And of those were others who worked themselves into her regard. One of those was the son of her people's ancient and still living enemy, Kiyamvir Ma'ar II.

Watching his current activities in the Empire She had determined was necessary, She felt vaguely distressed—vaguely, because this was not something concrete, but distressed for a multitude of reasons.

Amvir, as he was more normally called, was becoming too powerful. The other Immortals which had been Gods with Her and the one commonly called Vkandis had been destroyed or severely weakened by the Cataclysm Amvir's father and uncle had began. She could not see a less tragic way to end that series of world shattering wars, but She had a feeling the Cataclysm would haunt them in different ways, even thousands of years after the worst of the effects were over. Those who had been weakened had been hunted down and destroyed by her and Vkandis to gain strength, as the Cataclysm had sorely weakened them as well.

It wasn't until She had to deal with His behavior entirely on Her own She regretted Her actions of fratricide.

Amvir and Tralj had been a spur of the moment decision. She had felt Her ability to interfere would be limited soon, and had wanted to ensure Her will could still be felt on the world. The lifebonded pair had been recruited to ensure that. The idea of the pair gaining enough power to become Immortals themselves was not part of the plan.

She couldn't object too much though, they would make good company and would liven up the Realms with new company. But the Sorcerer-Mage's mental state was something She could object too.

Tralj had done his best, She knew. He had done quite well at shoring up Amvir's links to reality and humanity in their last years together. But when the pair had agreed to split up earlier so they could see each other intermittently throughout their mission, departing the Kaled'a'in after White Gryphon was done being constructed, She had not realized how much those intervening years would change things.

Originally, She and Vkandis had sensed there would be brief moments of concern, but the pair would remain relatively well-adjusted throughout. Now though – now Amvir was growing unstable in an Empire which was far too similar to his father's kingdom, with the person he trusted the most being Trevin, whose sanity depended solely on his loyalty to Amvir.

Needless to say, She was worried.

_**You have created our Doom**_, the Other said, appearing in His favored form. _**Your meddling has doomed us both.**_

_**Not yet,**_ she replied, in the form of the Crone so she might examine the threads of Fate and selecting one of the less likely ones. _**This is a nice one.**_

_**And how do you propose we create that—**_Vkandis sighed, _**Valdemar?**_

_**Is a pivot. A crux around which the world will turn,**_ she smirked, form altering to that of the Warrior,_** And I want in.**_

_**Of course. And that Chosen of yours will be reigned in?**_ the Other was impatient with her long-term plotting.

_**There is a chance. The bindings on his power are not enough anymore. At some point soon he will need to act as the power grows to be too much. Our best chance at that act being one to benefit us and Our future is Valdemar**_, She explained, in the Crone again, feeling remarkably helpless. Times like this free will seemed far too overrated.

_**I hope this pays off. I would hate for My last words to be I told you so,**_ Vkandis sighed before departing from Her presence.

Her shell altered once more, now the Mother as Her worry for Her Chosen children, inspiration for the Swordsworn, came through._** It has been a long time since we Two have had any company,**_ she whispered,_** You and Tralj would be marvelous as one of Us, Amvir. Don't waste that.**_

_**Besides,**_ She grumbled, _**He has gotten far too complacent for My tastes**_.

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"My Lord Mage, are you certain you don't want any further back up?" Alexei, military commander and official Captain of the Regiment of Wolves, asked.

The Regiment was directly under the command of the Lord Mage of the Wolves and they were the elite enforcers of the Emperor's will. They were feared throughout the land and were notorious for their loyalty to the Emperor. Precious few outside their number were aware the loyalty to the Emperor and Empire depended on their true leader's loyalty to the same, as they would follow their Lord Mage to hell and back should he wish it.

"Quite, Alexei, I have a feeling the Divide is approaching and I need those I can trust to keep an eye on everything here, and someone that won't jump to any rash actions. That is you and any you might choose to send with me. So no, no back up. If I need anyone besides myself and Trevin I will call you."

"Yessir. Needless to say I don't approve?" Alexei offered, before sighing at Amvir's steady smile and departing.

"Well then m'lord, the paperwork is filed, our horses waiting—is there anything else?" Trevin asked as he pulled on gloves, the two of them stepping into early morning sunlight outside the Regiment's headquarters.

"Nothing at all. To the western Barony of Valdemar!" Amvir ordered, taking his horse from a stablehand and mounting up, nodding to the boy and nudging his horse into a trot, Trevin close behind. The two were trained warsteeds, but in exchange for bulk and staying power they were from a breed known for endurance. Chargers were not much use when it came to the usually lightly armored and quick moving Regiment, much less their Lord.

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"Baron Valdemar!" a guardsman called from the study door, the relatively young baron, only thirty-eight, looked up from his examination of the crop production for this year and said, "Yes?"

"Two strangers have been reported riding through our borders, a day ago in early morning," the guard handed over the mage sent communiqué and Valdemar read it and grimaced, explaining to the guardsman, "The Regiment of Wolves was sending some inspectors, that's why I was… the _Lord Mage?"_ he yelped, whipping around and ordering, "Out! Out! I need to finalize all of this and get things in order for the Lord Mage's visit!"

The guardsman hastily left, and the baron called in his wife and butler, quickly snapping out orders so the household would be ready for the Lord Mage and his companion. This was bad, Valdemar slumped at his desk. This was worse than bad. First his eldest son is preparing to depart for the capitol after his birthday in a month, hostage for his father's good behavior.

Then came word they were going to be inspected for any discrepancies, meaning disloyalties, by two members of the officer class of the infamous Regiment of the Wolves.

The Regiment of Wolves was the oldest institution in the history of the Empire. Historically it was the core of the elite troops of the mercenaries which founded the Empire some thousand years ago, the leader of those elite becoming the first Emperor, kept in power by his loyal troops and his mages. They lead the expansion of the Empire, consuming land with the voracity of the beasts they were named after, their most powerful Mage and leader, the Lord Mage, leading the way with fire and death close on the heels of friendly offers and subtle threats.

Despite this historical knowledge, little was known about the actual structure of the unit beyond the basics. Always less than one hundred fifty men strong, they were intensely loyal to themselves and the Emperor. For this reason they were enforcers of the Emperor's will and feared the nation over and by their neighbors. When the leader, Lord Mage of the Wolves was mentioned, it was not uncommon for the warding against evil to be made.

Even less was known about the man who held the position, as each had simply used the title for formal functions and rarely appeared in person. Descriptions in the records were similar to one another, so it was assumed it was a hereditary position, but there were no reports of anyone marrying into the line in the thousand years it had been present, but somehow the Lord Mage line continued to exist.

And now, the prime enforcer of the Emperor's will was coming to _his keep!_ It as too much to hope they were here to deal with the rogue army patrol. Reports had been sent multiple times with no actual response, merely words and lip service.

No, the enforcer and his man were here to see if there was any work for their wolves to do. It wasn't enough that the entire nation made the sign against evil when the Lord Mage was mentioned, they had to make examples of various lords and keeps to make sure their reputation wasn't ever doubted. How he hated what the Empire had become. It used to be a place safe to raise a family and ruling a fiefdom was an honor, not a burden of fear and suppression on a perfectly loyal family.

Jerking alert at the tapping at his window, he saw that it was a kestrel hawk and gulped, opening the window for the messenger bird. The bird perched on his chair's back and tilted its head to one side, beak parting as it spoke, perfectly imitating an unfamiliar voice, "Baron Valdemar, greetings. I am inquiring as to how you wish for this group of rogue guardsmen to be dealt with. I apologize for the delay in responding, it appears that your messages have been intercepted or otherwise delayed. The perpetrators of such a disgraceful failing will be…_dealt_ with."

The dark undertone to that phrase left little doubt as to their fate, should this man ever find them.

"Please respond immediately, Lord Mage of the Wolves, Amvir."

Giving a surprised hiss, Valdemar gave the only response he knew would be considered the correct one. "Please save the commander or a high ranking officer for questioning. Other than that, do as you see fit, Lord Mage. The Baron Valdemar."

The bird took off out the window, the Baron shouting after it, "Follow that bird!" before running to get his own armor and horse. He wanted to see this rogue patrol with his own eyes, they had been a thorn in his side for far too long.

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Amvir looked up from the man whose injuries he was mending when he heard his messenger kestrel's cry. Holding out his arm the bird dove down to land on the leather gauntlet smoothly. "Report," he said idly, the wind elemental that he had willingly bound to the dying bird's body snorted and said, "To serve my messenger duty, 'Please save the commander or a high ranking officer for questioning. Other than that, do as you see fit, Lord Mage. The Baron Valdemar'."

The wind elemental dropped its imitation of the Baron's authoritative voice and continued in a sing-song tone, "He's _scared_ of you! He's _scared _of you!"

"Like anyone isn't in this country," Amvir snorted, finishing the wrapping of the blacksmith's wound. Looking around the torn-up village – more of a hamlet actually, it was very small – he grimaced as he and the man's daughter helped him to his feet.

"Well sir blacksmith, you and your people may want to consider relocating," Amvir murmured, seeing the more superstitious of the group mutter about cursed lands.

"Yes, we were considerin' it m'lord. Thank you for interferin' on our behalf," the blacksmith said, clumsy accent belying his upper-class vocabulary. Amvir made a note to check the education level in this place. It seemed a good one from his earlier encounters with Valdemar's people.

"It is my job. And dogs like this disgust those of us loyal to our lords and ideals," Amvir glared at the hogtied prisoners – twenty-five men. A standard security patrol. That there was no information available on a rogue patrol was disturbing.

"We can get shelter from the Baron. He is the good sort," the blacksmith mused.

"If you and yours can pack their things I will gladly escort you all to the keep. That is my final destination," Amvir offered, knowing it was best to have a good reputation with the common folk, even if it did require extra effort – it could pay dividends if used right.

"Your escort?" the blacksmith noted the absence of Trevin in the offer. Fantastic – intelligent conversation was hard to come by.

"Trevin will remain with these fools and deal with them," Amvir said coldly. The man nodded and set to getting the villagers all packed up, horses of the patrol used as pack animals while the people walked. Inexperienced riders and cavalry horses would not end well.

Before heading out, Trevin asked idly, "What would you like me to do with the rest of them m'lord?"

Amvir looked down at Trevin, standing by his leg and watching the assembling villagers nonchalantly. Trevin looked up and recognized the cold smile on his face, echoing it, knowing this recommendation would be one he would enjoy.

"I think the town could be much improved by a fresh coat of paint," Amvir commented, and Trevin's answering grin was all teeth. "Yes sir!"

Nodding, Amvir clucked the horse into a trot, the mare following after the villagers while Trevin turned to his victims and giggled. "Let's find that commanding officer, shall we?" he laughed, rubbing his hands together.

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The Baron rode out with a squad of five, a scout woodsman leading the way as he had determined the bird was heading northwest towards a main trade road. There were very few settlements on that route, one of them this particular woodsman's home, so he knew the odds of the village or hamlet having survived the encounter with their settlements intact was slim to none. He could only hope the people had survived with minimal injuries.

He was startled to hear a bird's cry as the messenger kestrel swooped around him before rounding a bend in the road to land easily on a black clad man's shoulder.

Surprised he examined the man, apparently the Lord Mage; he was surprisingly young, he looked no more than twenty-three. Black hair tied back at the nape of his neck, and an angular, narrow face. He looked like nothing more than whipcord muscle and bone, his eyes having a strange silver luster that brought to mind the whispers of the Lord Mage being able to read a man's thoughts and intentions like an open book. Ghost-eyes, they called them. Able to penetrate any sort of mind shield, no matter how gifted the individual was in the lesser magics.

"You are the Baron Valdemar?" the man asked coolly. Valdemar immediately recognized the voice from the kestrel's message.

"Yes. You are the Lord Mage?" he replied, though he already knew the answer. The mage, arguably one of the most powerful men in the Empire, inclined his head calmly to acknowledge the statement.

"These are the citizens that the patrol attacked. There were some wounded but no deaths. We interrupted the attack early in the terrorization stage," the man reported calmly, waving a hand to encompass the group of thirty or so civilians of varying ages that he was escorting, their belongings on cavalry horses.

"Nigel!" the huntsman grinned, seeing the burly blacksmith that was his brother.

"The army patrol itself?" Valdemar asked before the reunion could continue.

"My… escort is dealing with them. I left him to his fun to ensure these people made it to safety. I instructed him to determine which was the commander and leave him be, so you will have someone to question," the Lord Mage said, the way he paused before 'escort' hinting at a hidden joke. "If you wish to see them now?"

"I do," Valdemar said, eyes narrowing. "They have been a thorn in my side for some time, we have simply been unable to deal with them—their mage is too good at concealing them."

Those silver eyes were now focused solely on him and he felt his fingers twitch to habitually form a warding sign. It was too much to hope that the mage hadn't seen it, but he didn't seem inclined to draw attention to the action. "They have a mage among their number?" there was a dark undertone to the smooth question and Valdemar did not want to say what he had to, "Master class at least."

"Oh really?" the man hissed, hands tightening briefly on his reins, black leather gloves flexing.

Without a word, he whirled around and sent the battlemare lunging past the people, black coat flaring around him as he sent the mare racing back the way he had come.

Alberik Valdemar knew immediately that, at the least, the Lord Mage was protective of his own people, and quickly ordered the woodsman and three guards to escort the civilians to the keep while the remaining two came with him as he raced after the mage lord.

He arrived to find the mage lord still mounted, horse standing stock-still near the square. Valdemar reined his horse in nearby and hissed at the damage – it was horrendous. But all the same, something was missing.

"Where is the patrol?"

"Oh, Trevin is entertaining them. If I'm not mistaken the man bound to that porch over there is the commander and the one unconscious next to him is the mage," the Lord Mage waved a gloved hand idly. He cast the Baron an amused look and whispered conspirationally. "Not sure why I was worried, Trevin is _very_ good at what he does." Straightening, he said clearly, "Not as good as me of course, but maybe he has a future as a decorator or landscaper."

"Oh you like it sir? I'm glad!" an all too cheerful voice said from the rooftop nearby. Valdemar turned away from his examination of the glistening red that seemed to cover the majority of the hamlet to see a sight that was, in a way, more horrific than the otherwise picturesque blood-painted village.

The man had dark brown hair and his eyes weren't visible, he was wearing some sort of googles. His face was liberally streaked with blood and the hands waving a greeting were holding a knife and a paintbrush. They were both shining a dark red in the sunlight.

"Very efficient Trevin. You only have two homes left?" the Lord Mage's calm acceptance of the atrocities was even more appalling.

"One corpse for every two homes. Workes out quite nicely seeing as I left the commander as ordered. And I believe the unconscious one is that mage you sent a backlash too," Trevin waved his hands unconcernedly, "But I suppose you want that one."

"Yes, it has been some time since I had a mage to toy with," the Lord Mage said, before sighing. "Alas, we cannot impose on the Baron's hospitality like that. It is not polite."

The blood-soaked man easily jumped off the roof to land in a crouch, paintbrush and knife discarded as he picked up a cloth on a suspiciously clean portion of the porch in question, dunking it in a bucket of water and using it to clean off his hands and face, peeling the goggles off to reveal madman light blue eyes.

Pulling leather gloves from the inside of his jerkin, the man tugged them on before walking over to the two of them and saying, "An honor to meet you, Baron," bowing slightly at the waist.

"Likewise sir Trevin," the Baron hoped his hesitation in replying wasn't obvious, though judging by the amused twitch of the man's lips, he had no such luck. "Would you like to meet the commander?" Trevin offered.

"I believe the townspeople would also like to witness justice, so I would rather take him back to the keep and deal with him," the Baron explained.

"Understandable. There is a horse remaining from the patrol, that can carry him," Amvir said calmly.

"That I can do. What do you want done with the mage? Baron? M'lord?"

"I would like to know how he interfered with my scrying so well," the Baron admitted and Amvir nodded sharply. "I concur. I shall deal with that trash Trevin. Get the commander on a horse."

The two guardsmen with Alberik split up again, one going with Trevin to offer assistance while the other remained with the Baron. Both of them watched apprehensively as the man dismounted, orded his horse to stand and stalked towards the now conscious mage, who was staring at him in sheer terror.

Ignoring the man's blubbering for mercy, Amvir pulled his gloves off and tucked them inside his coat, reaching out and peeling the man's eyelids back so he could not avoid staring into his eerie silver gaze. The mage suddenly froze completely, silence absolute before starting to scream and thrash wildly against his bonds, blood seeping out his nose as Amvir ruthlessly pillaged his mind for his knowledge.

After what could only have been bare seconds, the mage slumped against the ropes, dead. Amvir pulled his gloves back on and turned to the Baron, eyes flashing as he said angrily, "He was using blood sacrifice summons. Unfortunately my mental purge killed him before those he contracted could get to him. There should be no problems from them though, now that he is dead."

"Thank you for that information, was there any way around them?" the Baron directed his attention to a less disturbing train of thought than how the mage's method of death could be considered a mercy.

"Not for you. It requires a bit of blood sacrifice runes and you don't have the knowledge or the temperament for such things," Amvir waved off his question and mounted, turning to him and saying grimly, "There is a runic array around the town however, and it must be destroyed."

"The easiest way to destroy it would be burning, correct?" Valdemar recalled and the Lord Mage gave him a mildly impressed look.

"Precisely Baron. I already heard from the people here they wished to relocate, but I will fund the rebuilding, should they wish to return or settle slightly up the road. After Trevin's work it would not be safe for anyone to live in those homes. The ill-luck that would follow such an endeavor is inconsequential, but disease would be a worry," the mage lord shrugged, sighing before he said, "But who am I to deny my subordinates a good time. Trevin is he secured?"

"Yes sir!" the man said, swinging up into the saddle and holding the unconscious captain's reins.

"Will he survive the trip?"

"Unless he was involved in the demon pacts, then yes."

"If he is they will have to hold their claim until we are finished with him," Amvir said coldly, Trevin smirking at the tone. The Baron idly petitioned no demons seek vengeance, he didn't want to see anything that could cause that man's eyes to light up in anticipation.

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"M'lord," Trevin said as they rode at the back of the procession, trotting back to Valdemar's keep after they had burned the village down. The commander of the patrol rode behind the Baron now, still unconscious.

"Yes Trevin?" Amvir murmured back, keeping his eyes on the trees.

"I don't like this," Trevin said bluntly, "That was no rogue army patrol and you know it. The Emperor's army would never let a situation go on this long."

"I know," Amvir's eyes narrowed, "Somehow the Baron has earned the Emperor's disfavor. And he saw no reason to inform me. It will be interesting to see if this is an attempt to tar me with the same brush."

"Messenger hawks are ready to send for aid should we need it," Amvir reassured his increasingly perturbed subordinate. "Be at ease Trevin. Should the Emperor attempt anything. I will not roll over and die."

Trevin looked at him intently, pale blue eyes boring into silver. "Swear to me sir, that you will not abandon us to an Emperor who betrays us."

"Never," Amvir said lowly, holding Trevin's gaze. "I will never abandon the Wolves, Trevin. You are _mine_. And no traitor Emperor will take us from each other."

Trevin let out a shuddering sigh, straightening in his saddle, murmuring, "Thank you m'lord."

Amvir reached over to rest a black gloved hand on his friend's shoulder. "You are most welcome Trevin."

They rode into the main town to see the villagers from the burned hamlet being taken care of by locals and servants from the main keep.

"Take him to the cells," Baron Valdemar ordered his escort, the two of them bowing in their saddles before taking the prisoner up to the main keep.

Amvir swung down from his horse, Trevin dismounting in the same heartbeat.

The Baron also dismounted and was approached first by his wife, who curtseyed before embracing him quickly. Amvir handed the reins to Trevin, who was very used to acting as a general servant and bodyguard.

Baron Valdemar led his wife over to Amvir and said formally, "Lord Mage Amvir, may I introduce my wife, Baronness Terilee of Valdemar?"

"An honor Baronness," Amvir kissed the back of her hand as was custom, her curtsy exceedingly proper. "Baron may I ask your people for details of the attack we interrupted?"

"Certainly," the Baron nodded, Terilee quietly excusing herself and returning to distributing food.

Amvir allowed the Baron to to lead him to his citizens, trusting Trevin to attend to the horses and get the lay of the keep's people. Even with the vicious rumors that would probably already be circling his assistant's sanity Trevin was remarkably good at ingratiating himself with people. Amvir had a suspicion this keep would be a hard nut to crack though, as many seemed to be truly devoted to their lord. It was always so much easier to gather dirt on lords who brutalized their people.

Then again, those were the ones who the Emperor seldom wanted to utterly destroy. Amvir had to arrange for their destruction himself.

It was a pattern he wasn't sure he liked. Actually, depending on the results of this investigation, it might be time for he and his Wolves to seek fresher flocks. He wouldn't lead them to the slaughter like the sheep they preyed on.

The Emperor just may have forgotten who exactly gave his predecessors power and who that amber-eyed iron wolf crown actually belonged to.

Amvir carefully questioned the villagers while the Baron watched him warily. Hiding a smile at the man's suspicion, Amvir gently questioned a young girl, only seven, being cradled in her mother's lap about what she had seen, crouching so he was at eye-level with her.

She answered in a remarkably composed manner, and Amvir smiled at her and her mother, quickly folding a scrap of paper and adding a bit of transformative magic to turn it into a small bunch of flowers with butterflies dancing in it to present to her. The child gave a delightful smile and laugh, taking the flowers with a glowing smile.

Amvir did similar parlor tricks for each child, knowing a truth that had helped him for many lifetimes.

Treat their children well and everyone will view you through slightly rosy lenses.

He proceeded through the people, finally ending as he explained the general concept of a runic array and the reason the town had to be destroyed. He also confirmed he would fund their rebuilding from the regiment's coffers and his own.

One good thing about the fear called up by his name, no one tried to cheat him.

"My thanks Baron, for your patience," Amvir turned to his host, trying to puzzle out what about this man frightened the Emperor so.

"It is no problem. May I ask what you were trying to confirm?" the Baron walked beside him, leading him to the keep.

"The length of time the patrol had been rogue. You can judge a lot from the remaining tenants of imperial procedure," Amvir explained, keeping most of his cards close to his chest.

"I see. Were you able to draw any conclusions?"

"I would prefer to question the commander before making any firm guess, but my estimate is upward of two years," Amvir said, making up a time at random. Honestly, he had actually been trying to figure out if there were any hints to the mages demon bargains in his dealings everyday. Demonic blood pacts were frowned upon in the Army's mage corps, so for this mage to have done so when it was doubtful the patrol had been rogue in the first place, hinted at either a mage who didn't much care for following orders or a persistent plot to make an undercover operation flawless. He knew which he would prefer, and which was far more likely.

"They have been raiding around here for a little over a year, so that timeline makes some sense," Valdemar frowned. "We sent repeated reports of the patrol and were assured it had been dealt with, if there ever was a rogue patrol, which there certainly wasn't, but if there was, it was gone now. Then my people would be raided again."

Amvir snorted at the paraphrasing of beuracratic double-speak, the Baron flinching slightly at his amusement. Sometimes being the cause of nightmares was wearying. "That sounds like the useless idiots," Amvir grumbled, "Never willing to admit they're wrong. I will deal with it Baron, if you saved those letters?"

"They are in my study," the Baron replied and Amvir nodded. Seeing who had known about this deception through the messages would make his job of seeing how far this rot spread far easier.

"Are you aware if they conducted raids at any of the other fiefdoms nearby?" Amvir asked, a new thought occurring to him. The Western fiefs were often considered more 'odd' and 'rustic' by their counterparts, holdovers from the days of magical storms and Change-beasts from Ma'ar's army. It would be interesting if this persecution was not focused solely on Valdemar and merely on those in his region.

"Kleimar, Orthello, and Miralon," Valdemar broke that suspicion quickly. The three keeps he named were in the West, but only Orthello directly bordered him. Valdemar was the furthest west 'civilized' fief, with Orthello to the south-east, Kleimar flanking Orthello, while directly east of Valdemar's fief was Briggson and to the northeast was Lirafin. On the other side of Lirafin was Miralon. However, those three were known as the more 'old-fashioned' fiefdoms, and together with Valdemar held a not-insignificant block of power, particularly since they were firmly bound allies, with Valdemar the coalition's head.

Interesting. And annoying.

Amvir let no sign of his annoyance show, instead engaging the Baron in small talk, trying to get the man to realize that he wasn't a High Demon incarnate and wasn't going to break into maniacal laughter and eat his children. Human meat was not very appetizing, even when well cooked. Trevin swore he couldn't tell the difference, but the man couldn't tell venison from chicken, so Amvir didn't trust his taste buds with anything besides blood.

Speak of a demon, and he shall appear. Trevin immediately tucked himself in Amvir's wake, walking at his elbow without a word to either of them. The Baron paused and looked at the man uncertainly, obviously expecting one of them to say something about his appearance or what he was doing. Amvir just ignored it and turned to the Baron with a slight smile, "So, I haven't inspected here before, but are you familiar with my methods in any way?"

"Not particularly. Rumors," the Baron replied, face calm but eyes revealing his wariness. It was the pinching at the corners, always gave it away.

"Right. First I expect you will be dealing with that commander. I will be present at that interrogation," Amvir informed him flatly. "I do not go out of my way to insult you or override your authority while this inspection is being conducted, however I will also not go out of my way to be polite and mannered should I feel my mission is being obstructed in any way. Anyone who attacks either myself or Trevin with intent to harm immediately comes under our jurisdiction to do as we see fit with them. To that end, it might be best if you reserve a cell or two for our use. I will spend three days in the fief itself, then a week roaming your lands. Should you wish to send someone with me to keep an eye on what I am doing, I will not object, but be aware they should be… mentally sturdy. Then I shall return for three days before the inspection is concluded and Tervin and I depart. Any questions?"

"None, Lord Mage," the Baron replied formally.

"Good. Oh, that is of course the time line for a standard inspection. It could take longer depending on circumstance. And if you would kindly give me those letters from the beuracrats Trevin and I will pay a visit to, that would be appreciated."

"I will send them to your rooms," Valdemar nodded. "Shall I send someone to fetch the two of you for the evening meal?"

Those silver eyes pinned him for a moment, before the Lord Mage nodded. "If it is not inconvenient. As I am sure you have other responsibilities, I will take my leave."

The Baron took the hint and walked away.

With the twitch of a finger, there was a field around them that kept any from reading their lips or hearing what they said. Trevin chuckled the moment he noticed the field was up. "I like him sir. This one will be interesting."

"He truly is like his great-grandfather," Amvir sighed, "All right, let's earn our keep."

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The pair had concluded the initial inspections, namely checking on the horses and the rooms. Trevin was responsible for getting in the servants' good graces and had already done a good job, having those involved with the horses and hounds throroughly charmed and halfway through the staff of the main keep. Amvir hummed thoughtfully as he flipped through the letters a nervous page had handed him. The boy was shifting weight back and forth on his feet, nerves at being in front of the Lord Mage showing through.

Pretending to have forgotten he was standing there, Amvir looked at him, startled, and then smiled slightly, "My apologies lad. I got caught up with these _fascinating_ letters. Please inform the Baron we will need to discuss these when you return to him. Thank you."

The boy parroted the message before darting away, Amvir chuckling at his new enthusiasm. With Trevin handling the servants admirably and Amvir ensuring he acted more like an absent-minded scholar than a warlord, the two of them should have decent trust built up when they went to the countryside. That would give a week for these people to think about how they really weren't that bad, then consider anything they had heard which might be dangerous, and tell them upon their return.

The subtle gaes he wove whispering _trust us, trust us, trust us_ into their subconscious helped of course. He had generations of experience serving as enforcer for this Empire, and years before that working with his father as enforcer of his will. More than a thousand years worth of experience at one job would give anyone time to come up with some quick and dirty ways to get things done. Having Sorcerer level mage power and training just made it that much easier to bend situations to his convenience.

Closing the door and tossing the letters onto the desk in the room, he sat down and tilted the chair back, feet on the desk and fingers laced behind his head. The window overlooked a small courtyard, and Amvir admitted to being impressed. He had experienced worse hospitality in some keeps, who actually thought they could intimidate him into declaring them loyal. It didn't work, but they always ended in fantastic entertainment for himself and his wolves.

Shutting his eyes, Amvir started working his way through a list of contingency plans. Something was wrong here, and it wasn't in the loyalty of the keep. Valdemar did not strike him as the type to be a traitor unless he was pushed to by extreme circumstances. The Emperor Mejar was one of the more annoying emperors he had worked for, and honestly he was growing bored as enforcer of an idiot's will. The past two emperors had been trying on his patience and there wasn't much for him to do. They hadn't conquered any nations lately, so no bitterness there. Very few uprisings simply because they knew it would call the Wolves down on them. There wasn't much work for him and his people.

And the Emperor knew it too. If he didn't like having someone so powerful serving him, fearing he would rebel and become Emperor himself (Amvir had toyed with the idea once or twice, but knew it would be far too much work if he got it authorized) then Mejar could do something extreme. And foolish, given who he would be going against.

_Is it time to arrange for my departure then?_ Amvir mused, _I swore to Trevin I would not leave them behind, but we could go west, return to my home. See what remains. But then I'd have to actually set up a kingdom, which would be… dull. And then I'd need an heir, which won't happen._

After five years of being separated from Tralj, Kal'enel had approached him with a proposition regarding the vows of what were now called Swordsworn. The asexuality of the vows appealed to him, so long as it wouldn't affect his and Tralj's attraction to one another. Kal'enel had obliged and made his Swordsworn oaths conditional, Tralj being the exception. It made everything much easier.

So becoming a ruler himself wasn't an option. But what if he supported someone else's bid for breaking away from the Empire? And if he did support such a bid, who would it be and how would he arrange for their loyalty to the Emperor to shatter.

The latter would be simple, but choosing a ruler who would get support from others and whose people would follow them into the West would be more of a challenge. Particularly if he wanted to ensure the kingdom they set up would last—he would need to sever the loyalty of an entire fief at the least, preferably multiple fiefs, in order for them to flee so there would be enough of an infrastructure to set up a truly prosperous kingdom.

Also there was the matter of charisma, the likelihood of character being inherited, possible safeguards against corruption – really this would be far more complicated than just taking his own people and running. But that was what would make it interesting. He would also have to see if this was within the purview of acceptable actions from Kal'enel's point of view, as She had been the one to send him here and set up an Empire with Captain Ulrich and mercenaries of Ma'ar's.

Trevin was right. This one would be interesting.

* * *

**A/N: And here's the founding of Valdemar! So, chronological order it is. I've got a few more pages of this era done and have some ideas up to the Companions showing up, so maybe the end of May expect another chapter?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Velgarth.

Trevin hid a frown while his master ate, charming the family with his distinct lack of fearsome teeth gnashing and plague spreading. Fearsome reputations were fantastic when it came to gaining trust – just act like the meek and mild opposite and people will be quick to conclude it was drawn far out of proportion, at least when it was the Lord Mage's reputation being analyzed. That trusting gaes was very useful.

But as easy as this keep was to check over, more concerning was what they _weren't_ finding. They had been sent here by the direct order of the Emperor Mejar. When the Emperor gave an order for an investigation, it was assumed there was something to investigate. As far as Trevin was able to detect, there was literally nothing that untoward here. Certainly, there was fear of the Emperor's policies and tendencies for overreactions, sensible worry for the lord's eldest as he was being sent away to the capital, but there were no whispers of hatred, nothing of true terror-induced desperation. Just a group of people quietly making their livings out here in the hinterlands of the Empire.

It was very disappointing. And if his master's conclusion about this being an attempt to tarr him with the same brush of assumed treachery was right, infuriating. Lord Amvir had never been anything but loyal to the Empire, and if he wasn't loyal to the actual Emperor, so much the better. He cared more for the longevity and prosperity of the Empire as a whole than one individual which could go mad at any moment.

Trevin was fully aware of the irony of him commenting on someone's sanity.

Keeping to the shadows and watching for assassins, Trevin settled in for a long wait. It was doubtful anyone would be stupid enough to attack the first night. It was usually towards the end of the visit the true crazies came out of the woodwork to try their luck.

Even if Lord Amvir was more loyal to the Empire than the Emperor, Trevin could only recall one instance where his master had actively disregarded the Emperor's orders. He could not find any flaw in his lord's decision, as the decision was the one which had sealed his loyalty to the Mage Lord in the first place.

He had been seven at the time they met…

_The boy watched his target carefully. He had selected this one after multiple nights scouting, picking purses and filching food when he had too, but focused more on this final goal. It would still the hunger his older brother's death had left behind for at least a short time. The one he really wanted was out of his reach for now, but he knew if he practiced he'd be able to get him one day._

_Waiting until the man was drunk, he darted into a nearby alley and waited, knowing the man would come to him. He had been seen by the man before, begging here. Always he emptied his small tin when the man was nearby and made sure he was particularly desperate looking. It was key for the man to believe he was totally vulnerable and willing to do _anything_ to have a spot of food to tide him over._

_Just like his brother had been that one night…_

_Begging pitifully as the man stumbled by, he let his breathe hitch, voice caught in his throat as he whispered he'd do anything, anything at all for a chance to bring food home tonight. The man had paused at that, and grunted before grabbing him by the arm and pulling him after him._

_Careful not to struggle _too_ much or draw _too _much attention, after all, even in these streets there were the occasional honorable types who would try to do him a favor and not realize he was in the middle of a careful trap they had just ruined, the arrogant sods, Trevin cried weakly as the man breathed coarse promises of food and gold after he was through, breath reaking of high quality alcohol._

_He waited as he was carried through the back entrances of a high-class hotel, smuggled up the stairs and into the man's rooms. The door shut and Trevin moved._

_The knife up his sleeve dropped into his hand, shooting out to hit the man's eye, but not penetrating enough to kill him. The man cried in pain and rage, dropping Trevin to clutch his ruined eye before gathering his drunken mind enough to seek revenge._

_By then Trevin had pulled out his other knife, thrusting it into the man's groin before kicking at the back of his knees, sending the man crashing to the ground, screaming muffled by the thick rug. Trevin dodged flailing limbs and jammed his knife into the base of the man's skull triumphantly, yanking it out and repeatedly stabbing him, letting blood splatter on his face and stain the teeth he had bared in a fierce grin._

_The body stilled, and he panted, before standing and spitting on the corpse. Then he looked around the room, knowing he would still have some time to find valuables before it was investigated, particularly since some servants had seen him being carried up. These classy places were usually spelled for silence besides, so the other guests weren't disturbed._

_His look around the room was interrupted by the sound of clapping._

_Whirling around, knife at the ready, Trevin stared at the darkly dressed man who had suddenly appeared in the corner. He had looked in that corner before and it had been empty – it had to have been magic._

_Fear rose in him before he quickly stifled it. If this was another one of those bastards he wouldn't let magic stop him from avenging his brother._

_Instead of stepping towards him, the man went down on one knee so their eyes were on the same level. "That was masterfully done lad," the quiet voice said, silver eyes gleaming in the mage-light._

_Trevin said nothing._

"_I was here to deal with him myself. He was a little injudicious in funding for the Emperor's armies, using it on places like this to indulge himself instead of soldiers and healers and the like," the man explained, Trevin not truly understanding what the man was talking about beyond admitting he had sought the cooling corpse's death as well._

"_There have been similar deaths in this city. I was going to look into it and see just who was taking these bastards to early deaths, but it appears there is no need hmm?" the man smirked at him, rising to his feet once more. Trevin recognized the look on his face as one of a predator and knew it was one that had been on his face in the past as he hunted his targets._

"_So, out of curiousity," the man said it mildly, though his eyes still focused solely on Trevin, unnerving him slightly with their steady gleam. "Would you like to help me deal with some of my other problems? Or are you selective in your prey?"_

"_There's a man I have to kill," Trevin said finally, voice quiet._

"_Oh really," the stranger looked truly interested now, though slightly amused. "And who is it? And why?"_

"_He hurt my brother," Trevin growled, "And my brother was too shamed to continue."_

_The silver eyes hardened then, became chips of moon-lit ice. "And who was he, lad?"_

"_Lord Huandel," he admitted, the name one which had taken months to uncover with only his brother's shattered descriptions and recollections to go by._

"_Lord Huandel," the man repeated thoughtfully, before shaking his head. "He is not yet on my list, but I suppose I could make him one."_

"_And why would I give up my target to _you_?" Trevin demanded, not willing to let this mage steal his kill for anything. The Lord Huandel was his._

"_Who said anything about stealing targets?" the man smiled again. "I need a second. You impress me. In return for your assistance and loyalty, I will get you your lord. I will teach you how to make him scream and beg for death which only you will choose to grant. Interested?"_

_To this day, Trevin was unsure if it was his own instinct or another of those trusting gaes whispering in his mind which let him accept the offer. Stepping over the corpse and into the congealing blood of the dead General, he went on one knee as he had seen at public fealty ceremonies, bowing his head and baring the back of his neck to the man._

"_If you get me Lord Huandel, I will serve you loyally for all my life," he swore. The man had tilted his chin up and stared into his eyes, silver gaze boring into his before he smiled. "Oath accepted, lad. You are now in the service of the Lord Mage of the Wolves, member of the Regiment. I have a feeling you will go far."_

_Trevin had followed the man in hopes of killing the man who had destroyed his brother. He had no idea the unchanging figure he was following in the shadow of would soon become the one person he would trust to death and beyond and the one person he would allow to give him orders. Lord Amvir had taught him everything he knew, the seven year old learning of politics and intrigue in the courts just as much as the movements of troops and the hearts and minds of men. He had followed in his master's invisible footsteps when he assassinated all from the lowly crime lords to the highest of the Emperor's advisors and listened quietly at the sessions with the one man who commanded his master where they plotted and schemed._

_It wasn't until he had been given the mission to eliminate Lord Huandel exactly two years after he had come into the Lord Mage's service that he knew the trouble his master had gone to so he could keep Trevin as a subordinate. His master had told him that in order to get this mission he had needed to prove that Huandel was disloyal, not just disgusting. When the Emperor had found out he was investigating this in order to keep the loyalty of his latest vassal, the man had been furious and demanded he cease investigations on the word of a 'lowly street rat' at once._

_Trevin had shivered at the gleam in those silver eyes years after the fact, knowing the argument had likely been a raving one, and likely explained the continued coolness from the formerly casual Emperor in their latest meetings. The fact that his master had been willing to fight the Emperor for him, so he could get Lord Huandel's life in his hands – that was the point where Trevin knew he would follow this man into hell if he so much as murmured the desire to go._

His thoughts were interrupted when the dinner finally concluded, Amvir leaving after his polite goodnights and Trevin immediately emerging from the shadows and trailing in his master's footsteps. The only thing which had changed over the years was his own size, now standing slightly taller than his master instead of barely at his waist.

"My lord," he said quietly, "Orders for tonight?"

"We will be meeting with the Baron to discuss the letters," his master looked over at him with a small smirk on his lips, "Would you prefer to listen in or continue your own investigations?"

"I would prefer to remain with you my lord," Trevin said, as he always did. Only when his master ordered him to would he leave his side, not wanting to risk anything happening while his master was out of his sight.

"Of course," the smirk softened slightly and an affectionate gleam entered his eyes, "I don't really know why I bother asking anymore, you always say the same thing."

Trevin shrugged, a smile on his face, "Well my lord, I can't say. You say that every time but keep asking."

"I suppose I want to make sure you haven't changed your mind," the Lord Mage chuckled, leading the way to the Baron's study where they would wait for the man to join them as per his request.

"Never my lord," Trevin finished their almost ritualistic affirmation of loyalty as he always had. He couldn't quite recall when this series of phrases had become a constant, always taking place the first night of their latest mission, no matter the mission type. He just wished his lord would realize he truly didn't need to ask and waited patiently for the day when they conducted a mission with no queries as to his desire to shadow his lord as far as he was allowed.

===pagebreak===****===pagebreak===

Alberik bade his children a good night, knowing they would not yet retire but unsure how long his meeting with the Lord Mage would take. Despite the fact many of his household members had relaxed around the duo, he couldn't help but remain wary. He remembered the way Sir Trevin had gleefully painted a town in blood while his master looked on with an indulgent air, remembered the ruthless crushing of a mage's mind, and couldn't bring himself to trust the duo to not do something similar to him should he get in their way.

Shuddering as he walked up the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder at the way his household had apparently lost all wariness around them. He could detect no sorcery or glamours at work to influence his people's minds, but the other explanation – that the duo was so charming as to put even the most suspicious of his people nearly at total ease within a day, was incongruous. How could two men with no more emotions than a lizard be so adept at swaying people to trust them? It made no sense whatsoever.

At least Terilee also felt uneasy around them, but his beloved wife was the only one who stood by him in his suspicions. Even his sons, perceptive as they usually were, had brushed off the rumors within hours of meeting them, saying they must have been mere exaggerations by people not wanting to admit they had been beaten in their arrogance.

While knowing the reputation of some of those the Lord Mage was said to have destroyed and acknowledging the likelihood of his sons' analysis being at least partially correct, he could not forget the casual slaughter and torture of an entire squad of men he had witnessed the aftermath of.

He was getting close to his study and heard a low conversation being conducted by his door. He couldn't make out words, but already knew who it was and what they were probably discussing. He briefly wondered if the recording spells in his study would have picked anything up before immediately dismissing the idea. The Lord Mage was too skilled to let something like that trip him up he was sure. He recalled how some of his servants had brought reports of a totally muted conversation earlier and wondered at how something like that could be done. It would be a marvelous trick.

"Lord Mage, Sir Trevin," he nodded at his guests, who stopped talking as he approached and turned equally unnerving gazes towards him. "Baron," the Lord Mage said, straightening from where he was slouched against the wall.

"Please, go on in," Alberik said, opening the door to the study. He didn't miss how Trevin was the first one in the door, posture deceptively relaxed as he was certain the man was fully ready to kill any potential assassin in the study. Alberik questioned the sanity of his fellow lords, since it was obvious someone had actually tried that tactic in the past.

The Lord Mage followed close behind his bodyguard-manservant and waited for the Baron to shut and seal the door and take his own seat behind his desk before sitting down across from him, Trevin remaining standing behind his lord's chair.

"You can sit down as well, if you wish," Alberik offered, nodding at the chair beside the Lord Mage's. Both quirked an eyebrow at him in an identical manner, Alberik wondering exactly how long they had worked together and who had used the expression first, as they appeared the same age.

The man took him up on the offer, sitting in the armchair casually as he watched the pair of them. Valdemar turned back to the Lord Mage and struggled to ignore the blue eyes which were gazing firmly at his face.

The silver gaze of the Lord Mage was little better, but at least he could use conversation to distract himself. "I would appreciate your conclusions regarding the letters. I honestly did not believe it was an active scheme on the part of those closer to the Emperor than I, but from your reaction through the messenger hawk I presume I was mistaken," Valdemar frowned at that, "Speaking of which, does your hawk have any special requirements while it is in the mews?"

"It isn't in the mews Baron, do not worry that your hawksman accidently poisoned him or something of that nature," the man chuckled, "Vrris can take care of himself and it is important he remain free so he can relay messages at any time without me breaking into your mews."

"As to your assumption regarding my suspicions about the rogue patrol, you are correct," the man frowned, taking the letters from his vest and flicking through them again. "At least three of the individuals who would have seen these letters are sworn to report directly to me anything regarding disloyalty to the Emperor. For none of them to mention the patrol to me is quite disturbing. It appears my reputation is fading from lack of use."

"I see," the Baron also frowned, puzzled as to why there would be such effort into undermining his authority. "Why though, would the patrol—"

"You said there were three other keeps which suffered under persecution from these fools," the Lord Mage interrupted, "Those three often back you when it comes to political moves and hold a not-insignificant power block. Should the Emperor be considering pushing a policy he does not feel you will totally support, he may seek to undermine your authority with your people and in the eyes of the rest of the political figures of the Empire."

Alberik paled slightly, not liking the implication that the Lord Mage expected him to go against the Emperor at some point in the future. The man obviously saw his worry and snorted, "Please Baron, not agreeing with the Emperor's policies all the time is not treachery, it is sensible. Emperor's can be remarkably stupid sometimes."

His eyes widened at the blunt evaluation of their ruler's mental prowess, and Alberik couldn't avoid flicking his gaze to Trevin, whose blank expression was not particularly reassuring.

"Anyway," the Lord Mage didn't wait for him to affirm his pronouncement and simply continued, "Do you know if the other keeps you mentioned have sent reports to this affect as well and received similarly useless responses?"

"I know for certain Orthello did," Alberik replied, recalling annoyed conversations with his neighbor. "I believe Kleimar did and am not certain Miralon ever mentioned it. The old Lord has trouble remembering things and his heir is not yet back from the capital."

"We may have to arrange a visit with those three keeps to see who else is caught up in this," the Lord Mage tapped the letters against his palm thoughtfully. "I do not like the idea of someone undermining my network. Particularly when I consider who would have to give those orders in order for them to be carried out without the individuals in question being terrified of being discovered by me."

Alberik dared not breathe at that moment. He could understand the implications as well as the next man, that the Emperor was possibly acting against the Lord Mage directly, but did not know how to respond. If this were a test of his loyalty to the Emperor, the worst thing he could do was rage at the idea of the Emperor daring to act against one who was obviously one of his most loyal subjects. If this were not, and if the Emperor truly _were_ acting against the Lord Mage, this could be a subtle way to determine if he would stand with the Emperor who had sent these troops after his people or the Lord Mage who had tortured and killed them like the meanest of dogs. The possibilities and the consequences of doing anything in response to that were too extreme for him to feel safe doing anything beyond hold his tongue.

The satisfied gleam in silver eyes was not reassuring, the small smile remniscient of a wolf in its glimmer under steady mage-lamps. The low chuckle put the hairs on the back of his neck on end, primal terror screaming in his mind as he truly sensed just _what_ was sitting in front of his desk.

"Oh I like you Baron," the man said quietly, chuckles subsiding as he stood, servant-bodyguard rising with him. "You are _quick_."

The duo left, leaving a clearer atmosphere and a Baron who broke out into a cold sweat as soon as the door shut, hands trembling as he poured a small glass of brandy. He had just escaped death, it deserved celebration.

_How_ could anyone relax around those – those creatures?

===pagebreak===****===pagebreak===

"You have a question Trevin," Amvir said as they entered their suite, his right-hand nodding as he shut the door, Amvir absently reinforcing the wards to keep them from being overheard as he took a seat.

"Yes my lord. Why did you reveal to him your suspicions regarding the Emperor?" Trevin asked, sitting across from him, wrapping his arms around his knee while soft deer-hide boots rested on the upholstery.

"He was suspicious, the gaes is too subtle to work on him with his own mage powers fuelling his resistance to it," Amvir began, "He would have figured out the implications of people not reporting a disloyal army squad to me soon enough, I simply informed him to put him somewhat at ease with us as we did not try to hide the potential conflict from him."

"Then why the last bit sir? He was terrified witless when you said that last piece about the Emperor actively moving against you."

Amvir paused at that, standing and pouring both himself and Trevin a brandy and handing his second one. Not sitting down again and instead staring out over the moon-drenched courtyard, he said quietly, "Because I am worried, Trevin."

"Sir?"

"The Emperor has been growing doubtful of my loyalty for some time," he said dryly, sipping at the alcohol as he considered how to describe this latest series of events in connection to a decades worth of gradual escalation. "Ever since the Huandel incident I suppose," he continued, raising a hand at Trevin's flinch, "No, Trevin. Any difficulties between the Emperor and myself are not your fault. Huandel had to go, it was simply a matter of working around an Emperor with sympathetic tastes."

"My lord?" Trevin prompted softly.

"Lord Huandel preferred young boys, the Emperor likes his girls hairless," Amvir said dryly, draining his brandy and setting the glass down. "Continuing. Ever since I refused to let him ignore Huandel's failings as a loyal lord, and expressed my displeasure with the Emperor's refusal to allow me a free reign most… dramatically, he seemed to recall his father's warnings about wolves who follow only the strongest. After he backed down he realized he had shown weakness and grew fearful I would overthrow him."

Amvir snorted, "Please, what would I do with an Empire? I prefer my work as enforcer to actual ruler by far. But Mejar did not see it that way, and apparently even after thirteen years of continued service with only mild conflicts in the interval, he has not gotten over the fact I defied his will without a hint of concern for his reaction."

"My lord, who would he send against you?" Trevin asked, rather amused by his tone, "Any he would send are already loyal to you."

"Precisely Trevin, precisely," Amvir smiled at his second-in-command. "He realized this. And it appears he has decided to instead cut me off from information regarding his kingdom, making his office the only way I can receive reports of treachery. That way, my ability to act against him is curtailed by the word that instead of taking action based upon my own information, I am only receiving what he wants me to hear. I must say it is a masterful thing he has done, to set this up under my nose. His spymaster must be commended."

"Who is his spymaster sir?"

"Why, none other than Merrick of course."

"Merrick?" Trevin was hesitant over that name, "Wasn't Merrick… well, wasn't he a lieutenant in the wolves sent away some time ago?"

"Yes, you met him when you were nine," Amvir smirked. "He helped me with Huandel. After realizing the Emperor would not like me moving against him, I directed him to inform the Emperor of my ongoing investigation so our confrontation would be assured. Then Merrick served loyally ever since."

Trevin raised an eyebrow and Amvir laughed at the disbelieving expression. "Yes Trevin, served me loyally, not Mejar. Though until now I told him to serve the Emperor with absolute loyalty and to only report to me when things became untenable. They have not yet reached that point, but it appears I will need to see just how badly Merrick has become softened by the Emperor's backing."

"And if he has turned?"

"Then I will give him to you, of course," Amvir smiled, "After all, our fifteen year anniversary is coming up."

"Very well my lord."

===pagebreak===****===pagebreak===

Amvir listened to Trevin's breathing as he stood at the window sill. He did not require sleep any longer, not since his first death, but he still liked it. However for now he needed to think, and as much as he trusted his second, there were some things he could not reveal without another's permission.

Closing his eyes, he sent his mind _in_ then _up_ in a meditation which was as familiar as him to breathing now. Opening his eyes he saw the glimmering silver of the Moonpaths. He had not come here frequently these last decades, but with the way these recent developments were pointing, he wished for confirmation as to his prospective paths.

He simply strolled the path, not concerned about the wait. She had other duties after all, and would come when She was able and not before.

Then She was there.

Amvir bowed lowly to his Goddess, before straightening, "Kal'enel," he said respectfully, "I have some questions regarding my mission."

_***Ask freely***_ She replied, eye-shaped windows to the night sky focused on him.

"I believe I have grown complacent," Amvir frowned, frustrated at his the signs which pointed to his own laziness leading to this crisis point. "Should I regain my authority in the Empire or is it time for me to cut ties? And if it is, what place do my Wolves have? I will not leave them behind."

_***This Empire has finished in my interest with it,***_ She said, _***Your plans to sever ties and flee west through supporting another work in My interest. Who would you select as leader?***_

"Immediately without meeting the other three persecuted, I would say Valdemar," Amvir frowned thoughtfully, "Even if I meet the other three, unless they are truly exceptional I would remain backing Valdemar as ruler, he seems intelligent enough and his family does not appear one which would lend itself to corruption. There is still a risk of course, but I would back Valdemar."

_***Good. It will not be long before he comes to a crisis point. That is when the time to sever ties will be. Build your ties with him so he might trust you with his plans, I wish for him to succeed in his endeavor.***_

"Understood," Amvir bowed again, and when he straightened She was gone.

Reassured his complacency was not ruining anything vital and was in fact hastening Her plans, he returned to his suites in Baron Valdemar's keep. Turning away from the window, he walked around the mattress Trevin had pulled onto the floor, not wanting to risk assassins getting him while Trevin slept in the adjoining servant's room and lay down on his own bed, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, deciding to not waste time with sleep and instead run through the possibilities.

Eyes half-shutting as he meditated, Amvir let his mind range free, running through all courses of action he could to determine exactly what he should do to back Valdemar.

And make Mejar regret he ever turned against him of course. Nothing in Kal'enel's orders precluded him leaving the Empire fully intact upon his departure. It was time for a civil war. It would serve as a nice distraction for a panicked flight from the East.

* * *

**A/N: **Broke the 100 page mark! Woohoo! Thanks to all you readers, I never imagined I'd make it this far!

I've received some questions regarding the remarks Kal'enel made on Amvir's sanity and some other parts of the last chapter. Amvir had a tendency to 'revert' to his mentality as Heir to Ma'ar (not a fully _sane _personality) in times of stress.

He hasn't seen his lifebonded in more than 1000 years and is currently working as an enforcer for an Empire very similar to his father's. Yes. He is stressed. Trevin is his 'link' to sane human interaction, much like Tralj was, except Trevin is not entirely right in the head either. Hence Kal'enel's concern. When you have an insanely powerful man who will go straight to 'destroy everything breathing' mode as soon as one mortal who enjoys killing people is taken out, there is cause for concern. Hope that helps.


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